Ghosts In the Closets
by The BatThing
Summary: In Gotham it seems anything is possible, but what about happiness? New Chapter: TwoFace and The Joker are sent to deal with Dick and Tim. Sorry for the wait, this chapter isn't very long either. I suck.
1. Pictures and Memories

"Are we listening, to hymns of offering? Have we eyes to see that love is gathering? All the words that I've been reading have now started the act of bleeding into one...into one... So I walk up on high and I step to the edge to see my world below. And I laugh at myself while the tears roll down. 'Cause it's the world I know, oh it's the world I know. I drink myself of newfound pity, sitting alone in New York City. And I don't know why...don't know why..."

-Collective Soul 'The World I Know'

**_Ghosts In the Closets:_**

_By: The BatThing_

Bruce Wayne smiled as he lifted his glass into the air, looking around at the hundreds of faces looking intently upon him. For some unknown reason he had been asked to give a speech at the annual charity ball, raising money for the police station. The speech went well enough – apparently the crowd liked it as the suggested he give a toast. "Without the police force here in Gotham City, I doubt we'd even have the Gotham we do today. Years of hard work, pain and loss, have not gone unnoticed. Without you, Gotham City Police Department, I doubt I'd be standing her to praise your works. This toast is for you – and your families."

Everyone followed his lead, drinking from the wine glass. One their hands were free they broke into applause, and Bruce made his way down the stage, shaking Commissioner's Gordon's hand with a strong grip.

"Well Mr. Wayne, I'd personally like to thank you for all that you have given tonight. You have followed in your parents footsteps, that much is sure." He smiled gently, "I know I wasn't here when they were alive – but I do know they did so much for this city. And I suppose their kindness was passed to you. Thank you."

"Thank you Commissioner," Bruce replied, not expecting such a statement. It was the anniversary of his parent's death, and apparently Gordon knew that. 'Barbara,' Bruce figured as he walked through the crowd, smiling at different people, accepting their praise.

The man soon made his way out the large doors, and slipped into the car, nodding at Alfred who opened the door open for him.

"Everything went well I trust," Alfred questioned as he started the car, pulling onto a busy road. He glanced in his rearview mirror. "Sir?"

Bruce blinked at the man and gave a short nod, "it went fine."

The butler said nothing in reply, but did nod back in a similar manner. The drive took on a new route, and the drive was silent as they came to That Place. Bruce didn't speak as he accepted two perfect red roses from Alfred. He closed the door firmly behind him and began the steady walk to revisit his nightmare.

There were moments, moments like this, when Bruce would find himself wondering if he was given a chance – would he change the ways things happened. Would he bring back those two people he loved so very much? Bringing back would mean giving up. The trade would be hard, bring back his parents would mean giving up his family now. Dick, Barbara, and Tim would only know him for his fame– and never as a friend or father.

He came to That Place and dropped to his knees. Bringing them back meant Gotham herself would change. Lives he had saved would be gone, things would indeed be different. Just that night he had been praising the Gotham Police Force, but what about the Batman? Would Gotham still be what she was if he traded?

The man placed the two roses down and dipped his head down. 'If I had the choice,' he thought to himself, 'if I were given that choice I'd have a very hard time doing what was right.'

_Six hours earlier: _

Tim carefully closed the door behind Alfred and Bruce, smiling as he did so. Bruce had to attend the charity ball and was kind enough to spare the 15-year-old the agony of being there alongside him.

Being home alone was not even a problem to be considered. While Alfred had attempted to bring up the matter Tim just sneered at it explaining that he was old enough to stay home a few hours – and it wasn't something that he hadn't done before.

'Alfred's a worry wart at times,' Tim admitted to himself as he climbed the staircase. 'Meh, I still got my way, so it's fine if he worries a little. Plus it wouldn't be smart to go with Bruce tonight.'

Tim, just like Dick and Barbara, knew tonight was the night of the man's parent's death. And Tim feared being with Bruce when he was in that sort of state. It wasn't something the boy wished ever to see – Bruce hurting badly.

The raven haired boy stopped as he came to Bruce's bedroom door. It was shut – like usual, but like usual, it was unlocked. Tim carefully entered in silence, flickering on the lights and waiting as the bedroom was bright enough. Then he walked to the shelf where a picture sat lonely, the faces of Thomas and Martha Wayne smiled up at him.

Bruce always kept pictures of his parents; there was the large one downstairs, and then a bunch of others around the house. Tim carefully lifted it up, being as gentle as possible and frowned. He sat on the edge of the bed – studying the picture, for some reason finding himself intrigued by it.

Tim batted his eyes and gave a firm yawn, confused at his sudden lack of energy. It was as if someone had taken it all away, just used it all. The boy fell back into the pillows, and slowly his fingers loosened their grip on the frame, causing it to drop comfortably on the bed beside him.

Tim blinked at the ceiling and felt his body shut itself down, and he struggled against it, struggled to stay awake – to at least get into his room before he fell asleep. But the war raged and steamed till it ended with the boy releasing the fight.

In the back of his mind he could hear _Them_. Hear _Them_ and _Him_. Tim didn't understand as their hushed voices spoke to him, he tensed as a cold hand lay on his arm, and then _He_ leaned down.

"Go."

* * *

Bruce nodded to Alfred who opened the door to the manor open for him. He entered with his vision downcast, but even then something didn't appear right. The man cautiously lifted his eyes and his jaw fell open at the sight. "Oh my god."

Alfred had turned at the voice and gasped.

The large portrait of Thomas and Martha was slashed, no longer distinguishable. But that wasn't the only trouble; photos flickered about the room from the breeze of the open door. Pictures of Bruce's childhood, each one of his parents ripped into pieces.

Bruce started up the stairs, taking them in leaps and bounds. He ran to Tim's room and slammed the door open, turning the light on, only to find the boy nowhere in sight. "Timothy!"

Alfred was behind him looking up and down.

At that moment it stuck Bruce that something else was out of place. His bedroom door was ajar. The man slowly walked to it, and pushed it open. The light to his room was already on, and inside he found Tim on his bed, sleeping, in his hands a picture of Thomas and Martha, ripped in two.

"No." The man walked over to the bed, and reached out, grabbing Tim by the arm and jerking him up. "YOU! How could you!"

Tim gasped and cowered on impulse, "sorry, I'm sorry!" His eyes opened and confusion was apparent. "Bruce?"

"What have you _done_!"

The 15-year-old's eyes were huge, searching the man's face, "what - Bruce?"

The man ripped the broken picture from the boy's hands and shook it, his eyes cold. "What have you _done?_!"

Tim's jaw dropped, "I – I don't know what happened! I swear, I must have broken it in my sleep, oh god, I'm sorry." The boy looked frightened, knowing perfectly well the importance of the picture. There was a prickle from the back of his mind and the boy shook his head, trying to think.

Bruce shook his head, "you don't know about downstairs either, I _suppose_!" His words weren't calm, they weren't controlled, and even Alfred wavered at them.

The boy on the bed was speechless as he gawked at the figure before him in fear.

Bruce took the boy by the arm and dragged him out of the room and down the stairs "You mean to tell me that you have no idea about," he came into the room and spread his hand, "any of _this_!"

"Oh shit." Tim whimpered as his knees buckled.

"Oh shit is right! What. Have. You. Done!" Bruce was roaring.

"I – I don't know how this happened, god Bruce, I was dreaming that this happened and," he saw the fury behind those eyes and collapsed to the ground, "it wasn't real though, you have to believe me – it was a dream. I w-wouldhaveneverdonethis!"

Doubt covered the man's face, "these pictures are all I had, _Drake_!"

Tim felt his throat tighten. "I _swear_ to you! It was a dream and I – I didn't do this!"

The eyes resting on the boy froze, "get _out_ of my _sight_."

"But – I swear, I didn't do this!" Tim took a picture into his hands and shook his head, "or I didn't mean too."

"GET OUT of this room, Drake!"

Alfred nodded severely for Tim to come, as if begging him.

Tim used all his might and rose up. He could feel his teeth chattering – he'd be kicked out of this house for sure, and he couldn't bear that. The boy reached out and gripped Bruce's arm, his eyes demanding. "You have to believe me; I didn't mean to do thi-."

Tim groaned as stars popped about in his vision. 'How did I get on the ground?' He shook his head, feeling a dull throb on the side of his face.

"SIR!"

"Get him out of here, Alfred!" Something in Bruce's voice cracked, "just do it!"

Tim could feel himself being pulled up by the butler and looked around. He could put two and two together. Bruce had just _hit_ him. The boy felt himself falling again, but Alfred kept the boy on his feet.

The older man led him upstairs into his room and sat him on the bed. "Master Timothy – what happened?"

Tim was blinking fast, "it wasn't me Alfred. I swear to you – I dreamt this, but I didn't think I had done it! Oh god, he's going to kill me. Hedoesn'tbelievemeAlfred,he'llkickmeout!

Alfred shook his head, "I'll get you some ice for your head. Right now the best thing is sleep." And then the butler got to his feet and walked out of the room.

Suddenly laughter broke into the air and Tim swirled around, facing his closet. He felt butterflies rise in his chest and carefully the boy got to his feet. He paced across the room and came before the door. Silence greeted him as he placed his fingers on the doorknob. The boy swung the door open, fist ready to fly, but inside there was nothing? Nothing.

Tim dropped to his knees and walked into the closet and searched around, heart beating like mad. Nothing.

Nothing at all.

* * *

Alfred found Bruce in the cave a few hours later and approached the man. "Sir, may I inquire?"

The man glared at his oldest friend, "he did do this Alfred! His fingerprints are all over these pictures! Not to mention this carving knife I found underneath the remains!" The man slammed his fist into the table, "what an idiot I was for taking him in!"

"SIR!"

Eyes flashing the man glared, "what? You think I shouldn't have yelled? Alfred – what he has done is not going to just go away!"

"With all respect, you have no right to say such things."

"My parents, Alfred – he _destroyed_ them! All I had of them he ruined!"

"Master Bruce, he told you it wasn't him,"

Bruce was now grinding his teeth. "It was a dream – oh yes, I did hear that. So now we have a psycho amongst us who can do something like this! What's to stop him from taking a knife to us in the night!"

"And so you'd force him out for having such an ailment?"

"Apparently he's not stable, Alfred look what he's done!"

"I think what's best for now is to sleep. I'll tend to the mess for now." Alfred nodded firmly, "consider your words and actions and see if you agree with them in the morning."

Bruce shook his head, "I'm going out now Alfred, do as you please, but I still have work. Do watch for Drake."

Alfred calmly answered, "Master _Tim_ is in his room, I trust he'll do me no harm."

"He might _dream_ again."

"If you are worried then you should stay."

Bruce turned away and walked off into the dark of the cave, preparing to visit his city.

_To be continued..._


	2. Nightmare

"Oh no, I see, a spider web is tangled up with me. Oh no, what's this? A spider web and I'm caught in the middle, so I turned to run, the thought of all the stupid things I've done. I never meant to cause you trouble, I never meant to do you wrong. I, well if I ever caused you trouble. Oh no, I never meant to do you harm. Oh no, I see a spider web and it's me in the middle. So I twist and turn. They spun a web for me, they spun a web for me - they spun a web for me."

-Coldplay 'Trouble'

**_Ghosts In the Closets:_**

_By: The BatThing_

**Chapter Two: **

Batman landed in silence beside the dark figure of Nightwing. Dick had contacted him and suggested they meet atop Wayne Enterprises. At first the answer to that had been 'no', Bruce was no fool; he gathered that Alfred had taken the liberty to call the young man now beside him and talk of the events that took place that night.

But even with the gruff negative reply, Nightwing insisted, saying that if the Bat wouldn't find him – he'd find the Bat – even if it meant waiting at Wayne Manor for the arrival.

"Make it quick," Batman hissed, not bothering to look at the boy at his side. He couldn't bear to; it'd just make him all the more upset. He knew the expression being worn without even looking – disappointment.

"I suppose you're still pretty upset about tonight," Nightwing started, scratching his elbow slowly, and creasing his brow as he carefully placed his words. "I suppose you have a reason to be angry."

Batman gave a sharp shake of his head, "If I had wanted to incorporate you in this topic I would have."

Not backing down Nightwing replied, "You don't know what you want Batman, and this does concern me, whether or not you do or don't want to include me. And if Alfred called me, then it has to be pretty rough – meaning he can't even handle you."

The dark figure growled, "I would suggest dropping the matter Richard, I have far more important things at hand."

"Like what? Sulking? Get over yourself!"

"I don't make it a point to take advice from children."

"I think I'm a little old to be considered a child! And besides – it's not like you're listening to Alfred, or taking his _advice_."

"Anyone under 30 is a child. And I listen and reflect on his words– but I use my own judgment. This isn't a debate, and it's not even a conversation anymore."

Nightwing leapt to his feet, pointing an accusing finger at the figure slowly rising. "You can't simply tell me something like that. How dare you treat me like I'm a kid! I grew up way before my time, incase you didn't notice. You were the one shoving me towards maturity before I was even ready. Tim's by brother, and I won't have you doing the same to him – it's not right! I don't care what you think, or how you feel right now, just stop being a spoiled little brat!"

The shadow rose to its full height and Nightwing actually regretted his words as he cowered slightly. "Go and do your job."

Nightwing took a step back, freeing himself from the warning area. "I'll do my job – just consider what Alfred is saying. What we all are saying." The boy then leapt off the roof, carefully working his way across Gotham in a fashionable manner.

He came to Crime Alley and paused for a moment, taking a short breather as he placed both hands on his knees and glanced around – looking for anything of interest – anything that should (even though he would be unwanted) include him.

"Ech!" Nightwing covered his ears as a splitting pain shot through his skull. He dropped to his knees and gritted his teeth, taking in air with a shark whistle. The boy's vision blurred and he collapsed, not understanding what the cause of such pain was as he blacked out.

When Tim awoke he couldn't help but whimper in pain, rolling to his side he froze as pain struck. The freezing and burning sensation covered his stomach. Sitting up wasn't even an option at the moment – seeing as it caused unforgivable pain.

Gripping his comforter and sheets, he carefully pulled them back. Tim couldn't believe his eyes as he pulled his shirt up. There - all across his stomach - were burn marks, crested with a thin layer of blood. He gaped at them, and counted carefully. There – crested into his skin – were twelve burn marks, each two inches long and about an inch thick. They covered his stomach, spread towards his lower abdomen, and etched carefully towards his back.

The boy shivered, and carefully placed his hand over one, as if to hide its ugliness. Raising his head, he could see that it was still late – as his open window allowed only darkness to filter through, and the faint light of the city.

He couldn't bring himself to get up and tell either Alfred or Bruce, at least not on this night. They'd think him even crazier than they already were assuming, considering he had just been accused of tearing the pictures to shreds. No, telling them would do more harm than good is seemed.

The boy lay still, to scared and to sore to do much else. 'What's happening to me,' he thought, 'what is going on? How did this happen.'

_Bruce_.

Would Bruce have done this to him? Would Bruce actually attempt this sort of thing – Tim didn't believe that for a second – besides, he would have awoken at the first singe. 'Not Bruce, not Alfred, Dick, or Babs.'

Tim pulled his covers over him and swallowed, something was telling him that he knew who had made these marks.

'It was me – it had to have been me. Just like tearing Bruce's parent's pictures, without even realizing it, I was burning myself. I-'

The sound of raspy breathing broke out and Tim shot up, ignoring the pain throughout his body. His eyes fell on a dark shadow squatting down on the ground, slowing walk in the squat form across his floor. The faint glow from the window offered enough light to see that this thing wasn't anyone he knew. The boy to let out a shriek, he wailed and screeched, closing his eyes. "BRUCE! BRUCE! _Hellllp_!"

They weren't coming fast enough, and Tim felt something crawling onto his bed, the boy thrashed, refusing to open his eyes. It was coming, crawling across his bed towards him, slowly moving atop the covers.

"OH GOD – BRUCE!"

There was a slam at the door, "Timothy? What?" Bruce's voice came through, "the door's locked – TIM?"

Tim could feel a cold hand rest on his arms that was covering his eyes. It tugged, the cold fingers prying at his hands. "PLEASE! OHMYGOD!"

SLAM! The door flew open and Bruce stumbled in, looking up at where Tim sat, in his bed, all alone. He quickly flipped the lights on, squinting at the brightness. "Timothy?"

Tim uncovered his eyes and forced his shaking body to turn so he could look around. He looked back at Bruce who was now at his side, looking confused. "It's gone – oh god – B-Bruce, it was on my _bed_."

"What are you talking about? There is _nothing_ here." Bruce looked the boy over, his face not expressing any hint of thinking other than what he had formally stated. He winced at the sight of a large brown and yellow splotch on the boy's face, where he had hit him earlier that night.

"It was here."

The 15-year-old looked terrified, and deep down Bruce wondered what Tim had seen. "It was probably just a nightmare."

"Not a nightmare," Tim gasped, clinging to his covers with great vigor, "it was real. I could hear you at the door, and it was still there. It wasn't human, whatever it was." Throwing his head up his dark eyes searched his mentor's own and he saw the doubt.

Bruce couldn't help but sigh with a little annoyance. It was late – and the night had been long enough. First the pictures and now this, how was he supposed to act? "Listen, Tim, how about you take some sleeping medication and try to get some rest?"

Tim blinked, sensing the annoyance, but not about the allow something like this to be pushed aside. "You don't believe me, do you? You don't think it was real, you think it's just a dream. Bruce, I'm _not_ lying! I swear to you."

Running his hand over his eyes Bruce took a in a deep breath and then slowly looked around. "I don't think you are lying, but I do _know_ something. Ghosts and monsters **_aren't_** **_real_**, and it wasn't a person in your room because I would have seen him."

"I swear!"

"I know, sometimes dreams can seem completely real. Now come on and I'll get you an Ambien to help you rest." Bruce started out of the room. Tim, who wasn't about to be left alone again, followed behind, trying his best to hide the pain from the burns. They made their way into Bruce's room and he quickly slipped into his bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and pulling out a bottle of pills. "Has Alfred given you these before?"

Tim slowly shook his head, reading the label, "just the Sonata's sometimes."

Popping the cap Bruce poured a few pills into his hand, then took a small pill up. "Half should work fine on you – I don't want you sleeping throughout the whole night and day. These are strong."

Accepting the pill Tim carefully placed it in his mouth and swallowed. The feeling of the powdered pill in his dry mouth wasn't pleasant, but he dealt with it. Standing in a position that kept his shirt away from the burns, he watched Bruce closed up the cabinet. He watched the man waltz out of the bathroom and followed him, keeping a steady gaze. "What if it comes back?"

"It won't, and you'll be asleep if it does."

"But if I'm asleep it'll attack me. What then?"

Bruce clenched his fists, not out of anger, more from the stress of the situation. "There is nothing out there Tim, nothing but your imagination. If I hear anything I'll check up on you."

Tim nodded, scared out of his wits and not brave enough to admit it. "Night," the boy finally managed and he slipped into the hall, closing the door behind him. There was no way he was going to face his bedroom again. 'I don't want to be alone, but I can't do anything but be alone.'

Gently sliding down on the floor beside Bruce's door, he wrapped his arms around his body and took himself into a hug. His burns hurt so much, but he dealt with them, knowing if Bruce found out – he'd be mad. Soon enough the Ambien began its job, it was stronger than the Sonada's Alfred usually dosed him with when he was having nightmares from work – like the first time he had seen a man killed – it took him long nights before recovery.

Sleep did come, and it came unexpected. The boy carefully curled into a tight ball outside the door and fell into a deep slumber, breathing heavily as he lay.

_To be continued… _

Candleblaise: Isn't AYLNO wonderful? Everyone should read it! Thanks for the comment, lol, I don't know about the best, but I try. I came up with this concept in church. I had to go to the second service because I was up all night at a party (nice), so I was out of it and this just played in my mind. So – I don't take much credit – I think it was the lack of sleep and the lack of real food, lol. Thanks so much for reading my stuff, you're a pal!

Shadow Avenger: It's true, it's true, I do love to torture Tim! But I don't blame myself, lol, I blame all the Tim fanfictions out there! I mean – it's hard to find a happy Tim fanfic now-a-days, you know? ROTJ did that to him, poor Timmy. You'll have to wait a few more chapter to find out what the truth of this all is (I do think it's clever – but then again – I am wrong at times, lol.) And also, hope you enjoy the new chapter in: The P L A Y G R O U N D Boys, I updated just for you! You inspired me.

Ari: I know what you mean about Alfred's dialect, the trouble is I don't really know how to do it. Usually I just throw it at you and you take care of it, but I suppose it's high time I learned! Hmm, maybe I'll start speaking proper and everything and that'll be a start – or I could just look at the comics and learn, lol, that'd be best. You'll have to critic me on the next chapter with Alfred in it. I want to get him right! Thanks for the review; I am ober happy you liked it!

Silver: Ha-ha, I love that review, I _can't_ get over it. I suppose I shouldn't be surprise. LOL, J/P. I haven't spoken to you in, like, two days – or has it just been one? LOL, who knows – but I need to E-mail you back! As if we don't e-mail enough, huh? Oh yes, and from this point on I have decided to blame you for my Timmy obsession, ok? If anyone is like: _ha, loser!_ I'll just be like: _Well, it's Li's fault_. I don't know why, but I figure if we hadn't met I'd be over Batman. LOL, so I suppose I owe you. Heh, thanks for the review! Talk to you later.

Caerula: Tim's your favorite too? Yea! We need to start a club for all the Tim Drake fans, well, or just a webpage. There is already the Tim Drake-ster club, lol, population: 2. But yes, it's ok that you are biased when it comes to Tim, it makes you more cool. Yeah – the grammar, I didn't let my wonderful editor read this one over, so yeah. I'm really sucky when it comes to grammar and Alfred's speaking. LOL. But if you would, just tell me about the grammar, I am always willing to know what I did wrong. Just be like: _what are you doing, stupid, this is completely and utterly wrong. _And I'll cry some, but learn too. Hee-hee, thanks for reading Caerula, hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Alfie: Hello again buddy! Yes, yes, when it comes to the laughter even I get scared. Just imagine writing this late at night, in the dark (so your parents wont tell you: you have school in the morning, sleep!) and with a red glow coming from your little light. I scare myself. The other night I was thinking about the oncoming chaptered and scared myself so bad I had to sleep with the lights on – (hangs head in shame). The only thing is that my mind makes it worse, you know? Yeah for Alfred fans! I love Alfred too, he's my sister's fav. Character, and he's up at the top for me. Life without Alfred would be hard. (That'd make a good fanfiction). Gotta run, thanks!


	3. Trust

"I remember running through the wet grass, and failing a step behind. Both of us never tiring, desperately wanting. When they pumped out your guts, and filled you full of those pills you were never quite right, deserving all the chills. They say the worst is over, kicked it over and ran. Then they ask what went wrong, when they turn you on again -They turn you on again. Kick them right in the face. Make them wish they weren't born. Baby burst in the world, never given a chance. Then they ask what went wrong, when you never had it right."

-Better than Ezra 'Desperately Wanting'

_**Ghost in the Closets:**_

_By: The BatThing_

**Chapter Three: **

Nightwing awoke with a low groan, rubbing the back of his neck tenderly. He blinked, and instantly felt the throbbing of a headache that was present across the back of his head. Shifting his legs under him he managed to stand up, but wobbled slightly at his lack of balance.

'Strange,' he thought as he squinted, looking around, 'what happened?' He could recall being here just moments before. Nightwing dug into his glove and pulled out a small watch from a hidden pouch. "Damn it."

When he had spoken to Batman it hadn't been but a few minutes past one, but now he read the number: 3:50. It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened, and the thought of that being true was gut wrenching.

Blacking out when he was Nightwing was a danger – and if Bruce found out – if Bruce ever found out he knew what would happen. 'He can't stop me from doing anything,' the young man reasoned. 'Besides, it just was this _once_, who is to say that it wasn't just a lack of something or other?'

The pain in his head was unbearable, absolutely unbearable. He groaned inwardly as he pulled out a jump line and calculated his next jump. It wasn't a headache, no, it was much too painful - probably more like a migraine.

Getting to his bike took but a few minutes, but getting to his loft took a little more time. Once there he pulled out some medicine and swallowed the pills with a quick gulp. He tore the mask from his face and tossed it to the floor, not in the mood for anything but sleep.

"No shower tonight," he spoke aloud and then slipped into some clothes suitable for sleep. Pajamas were used for special occasions – like visiting the manor with Alfred around. Alfred always insisted on pajamas, as if there weren't another way. Living on his own brought many freedoms though, some of which Dick enjoyed, and some of which he didn't find much pleasure in.

He pulled the covered around him and simply collapsed. 'Oh god,' he thought as he drifted into slumber, '_please,_ oh please, don't let this be something permanent.'

"_Block_ me!"

Smack.

"Timothy, keep on your toes, you aren't watching."

Whap.

Tim stumbled backwards as he took another light smack to the face; things weren't going well with training today. Not ­ at all. He managed to sidestep Bruce's hand, but no praise came with his success. Not that he would expect it. That was the first time he had been able to dodge the man in a good long while.

The burns were causing pain – god awful pain. And moving wasn't easy, at least it wasn't now. Before he had been able to move with the pain, ignoring it, but now it was getting close to impossible to move freely. Bruce was coming at him again, and Tim went for a hit not willing to sacrifice a kick, but the man caught his wrist, tossing Tim to the ground. Tim fell, arms flying about so he would land softly, not near his burns. Things didn't work as he hoped.

"Argh!" Tim gritted his teeth, screwing up his face as he closed his eyes. He carefully pushed up, but even that hurt. 'Get up! Getupgetupgetup!' He pushed up only to roll to his side and collapse on his back.

Bruce stood, watching without saying a word. He didn't move from his position, but his hands rested on his hips and his eyes were dark.

Placing his palm on the ground, Tim managed to get to his knees. He tossed his head back and looked calmly at Bruce. "Sorry, I, erm, I think I just twisted my ankle or something."

"Did you?"

Tim forced the color to stay out of his face and gave a firm nod. "I think so."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, that's what I said," Tim mocked, "but I could be wrong, maybe I didn't think so. _Geesh_ Bruce, lay off."

Had it been an ordinary day Bruce would have rolled his eyes and let things slide, taking the boys words for truth, but the man was hard to fool when he was _upset_. Apparently the pictures were still the cause for much indifference. "I don't believe you."

"Ok."

"Did you just twist it with that fall?"

"Yeah." Tim was getting mad now; he still was on his knees, staring at the man. "That's what I said."

"Then it wouldn't explain your disgusting excuse for your agility today."

Tim blinked, "what do you want me to do? I just had a rough night, and I don't really have my mind on this."

Bruce took a step forward. "It's amazing to see you lie straight to my face, you do it quite well."

"Who said I was lying?"

"I say you're lying. You're mind was in the right place, it was your body that wasn't working."

"Believe what you want," Tim softly answered.

"Why aren't you standing?"

Tim's eyes slowly rose to Bruce's and he stood. "Happy?"

"What are you hiding?"

"Geesh Bruce, get off it! I told you what is wrong; do you have to rub it in like this? Can we just call it a day?"

"No, usually you can take a few hours of this, but today you only managed twenty minutes." Bruce frowned as he shifted his weight, "that's including the time we are spending debating this matter. So I'll tell you what, either you tell me flat out or we continue with this."

Shrugging was Tim's only option, "fine, let's keep going." His words were a mistake, and he discovered that the moment Bruce and he were at each other again. Bruce was aiming for the boy's gut. Tim wasn't about ready to let his mentor find out, so he lashed back, blocking the hits and ignoring the pain. But while he was suffering, Bruce wasn't.

The man lunged for the boy caught him in the stomach. It wasn't a hard blow, rather just a swift hit, meant to only leave a splotch of red skin that faded quickly.

Tim literally let out a shriek and collapsed to his knees, pulling at his shirt, taking away the fabric that rubbed against his sensitive skin. He whimpered, out of pain, but also from the fear. No fooling Bruce, it was over.

Bruce knelt before him, eyes critical, filled with disappointment. "A twisted ankle is usually at your ankles."

His face was crimson, Tim was sure of it. He couldn't bring his eyes to look at the man, and he couldn't manage to speak at all. So rather than defend himself he just hung his head and protected his secret with his arms.

"So, are you going to show me?"

Tim took in a deep breath and released it, "I can't."

"Sure you can, and you will."

"You'll think I'm crazy," Tim growled, still keeping his eyes downcast. "You'll think I'm insane!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You won't understand," Tim continued, shaking his head, "you won't, I know you won't."

Bruce pushed Tim's arms away, and the boy didn't fight him as his shirt was lifted. "Oh my god, what _happened_! Who did this!"

Tim opened his mouth, finally looking at the man, he couldn't speak - he just couldn't say _I don't know_. Bruce would think he was insane. But what was there to do? He wasn't about ready to lie and say he had done this – or to say it happened in costume. Bruce would get upset either way.

"Tim, what happened?" There was concern in Bruce's voice. "Who did this to you?"

The boy was silent.

"You did this, didn't you?"

"I – I," Tim tried to make sense of what didn't make sense, but nothing seemed to work. How could he explain that he didn't know - that they just appeared? He couldn't, not without Bruce sending him away.

"Well, could you at least grace me with an answer as to when it happened?" Sarcasm.

"Last night," Tim whispered.

"Was that after or before you had the nightmare?"

Tim's eyes reflected the fear he felt inside, Bruce was going to relate this to the torn pictures. "I can't remember."

"When?"

"Last night," Tim repeated.

"No, you aren't making sense, _before_ or _after_?"

"I told you! I _don't_ know!"

"Fine, let's say you don't remember."

Tim nodded.

"So, what are you burning yourself with?"

He turned away, and then slowly got to his feet, tugging at his shirt. "I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"I just **_don't_**! I woke up and they were there, I know you think I'm insane, but it's true, ok? I'm not doing this to myself; I think I'd wake up if I did this to myself! Don't you? And why would I do this? I _love_ being Robin! I'm not so stupid as to stop myself from being out there."

"Let's go get Alfred," Bruce snapped, and then he walked towards the stairs. "You think about telling me what happened before I find out that you're lying to me. Understand? I don't do well with liars. I won't have liars."

Tim swallowed, refusing to scream at the man. "I'm not lying, I swear it's the truth."

"Think about it," Bruce growled, "and then tell me again. Now let's get Alfred."

_To be continued… _

Alfie: Oh yes, if I were Tim I wouldn't have any of that. I'd be like: I'm staying here for the night, deal with it. LOL. I'd be super scared – eck, just thinking of it scares me, I always sleep with a nightlight now-a-days (I am such a kid, lol), but it can't be helped! LOL, thanks so much for the review, hope chapter two is ok!

Silver: I can't stand scary stuff, so who knows why I am writing this, bleh. Heheh. Thanks for posting Cutting! For anyone who reads this make sure you look at Silver's fanfictions! My all time favorite of hers is coming out perhaps soon! Yea!

Blaise: Hope those fanfictions I sent to you were readable, lol, just tell me you read Perspectives and I'll be at peace. Heh. Thanks for the review; it makes me smile a lot! Ack, is that a quote from a movie? Hmm. I hope you liked Playground Boys, I need to update in the next year, lol, but first work on Oh Silent Prayer, urg, to much all at once.

Ari: HEY! Yes, yes, yes you made me see that, lol. I agree, Nightwing isn't a kid. Not in comics or TV show – just in the movies where he is a really stupid character (ok, that's Robin, but it still counts, I don't like Chris O'Donnel playing Robin!). But thanks for the words or wisdom, keep them coming, lol, I need it and you know it!

Caerula: HAHA! Make Bruce suffer? LOL, maybe I should, but you just wait for the ending, I think he'll suffer when he finds out that Tim isn't lying and what is really happening! But I must not give away any hints, I mustn't! Hee-hee, thanks for the review!

Catgirl II: Thanks for the reviews, hope you enjoy chapter two… ok, enough fooling, I know who you are, lol. You may stop reviewing my fanfiction if you don't want to read it! Grrs, lol, thanks my dear, dear… whatever you are to me, lol, kidding!


	4. Sometimes it Takes a Brother

"And after all of my alibis desert me, I just want to get by I don't want nothing to hurt me. I had no idea where my head was at, but if my heart says I'm sorry can we leave it at that, because I just want for all of this to end. And I so hate consequences, and running from you is what is my best defense is. Consequences, oh God, don't make me face up to this. And I so hate consequences, and running from you, is what my best defense is. 'Cause I know that I let you down, and I don't want to deal with that. And I spent all last night tearing down every stoplight and stop sign in this town. Now I think there might be no way to stop me now, I'll get away despite the fact I'm so weighed down. All of my escapes have been exhausted, I thought I had a way but then I lost it. And my resistance was once much stronger, and I know I can't go on like this much longer."

-Relient K 'I So Hate Consequences'

_**Ghosts in the Closets:**_

_By: The BatThing_

**Chapter Four: **

The phone was usually nothing but a bother to Dick Grayson, when it rang he would always go through the same routine and rarely change his pattern. He'd ignore it for the first two rings, hoping that the person on the other end would just leave him be. On the third ring he would send a curse on the person's father, and then on the fourth go to answer it.

Half the time it was nothing but junk calls about insurance or something of that matter, or maybe joining the US army, these calls he dealt with as he pleased. Then there were times when people would call about nothing in particular (like selling a new appliance) and Dick would always ask _why_ they thought _he_ would be interested in such a thing. But occasionally it was Barbara, and even though he would never openly admit to it, he enjoyed her calls – even if they weren't really to be classified as 'friendly phone calls'.

Sure Alfred called.

Sure Tim called.

But HE_ never _called.

Dick figured the day _he_ called it'd be best to pack his bags, because apparently Gotham was in so much trouble that the Batman couldn't handle it, and the best thing to do would be hightail it out of there before the next day.

But then _he_ did call and Dick was surprised at the reason.

When Dick picked up the phone, and answered with a simple hello, the reply was: _Have you and Tim been talking lately? _

"Bruce?"

"Yes, this is Bruce, I was wondering if you might know something about what's going on with Tim." And then he stopped talking, waiting for a reply.

Dick slid onto a stool and batted his fingers against the counter. "About what - do you mean the pictures?"

There was a stressed sigh, "No, not the pictures, I'm talking about him burning himself. I take it Alfred didn't call you over the matter? I was just wondering if maybe you know something about this, I know he looks up to you and perhaps he might have mentioned something in the last couple of weeks. Anything?"

"He's _doing_ **_what_**?"

"I'll have Alfred explain the situation later; I'm busy at the moment."

"Oh no you don't," Dick growled, "I think you can spare a few moments on something like this." Bruce wasn't happy with the response given, not happy at all, and Dick could tell. The way the man drew in a deep breath, sighed, and then allowed dead silence. Dick could almost see his mentor's expression.

"Tim apparently has been burning himself across his body, I discovered it last night and he swears up and down that he doesn't know how it happened. Now if you'll _excuse_ _me_, I really _must_be leaving."

Dick didn't bother with saying goodbye; he pressed his thumb on the 'talk' button and then tossed the phone onto the counter and got to his feet, deciding maybe he'd find out what was really happening at Wayne Manor.

* * *

Dick was surprised to find Tim out on the drive when he pulled into the Manor. Not that it was strange for him to be outside, it was the middle of summer, but Tim was simply lying on his back at the bottom of Wayne Manor's steps, staring at the clouds above.

Dick walked beside his friend and smiled down at him, "you look busy."

"Do I?"

"Not really, no – no, not at all," Dick chuckled as he flopped beside Tim and gave a friendly smile. "Mind if I join you, or would you rather me not?"

Tim carefully turned his head and rested his eyes on Dick, "feel free, don't worry, Bruce doesn't come home for hours, and Alfred doesn't usually come out for a stroll. So we're allllllll alone out here."

Dick lay on his back and sighed. He could tell Tim was watching him, and he had a hunch that Tim was suspicious of his arrival, "I guess you know why I'm here, huh?"

"Same reason Barbara came is my guess."

"Well, yeah, I suppose." Dick couldn't say, but he assumed she had come for the same reason. "So I guess I'll be blunt, which I hope is ok with you. I know what it's like; being Robin and living with Bruce, and well, if you ever need to tell me anything just go ahead. That's about all I have to say about it."

When Tim replied, it was barely above a whisper. "What all did Alfred tell you?"

"…nothing, it was Bruce who called actually, and well, he didn't say much other than you were burning yourself and demanded _I tell all I know_."

"Bruce called?"

"Yeah, I know – it's crazy, but he figured that since I was once Robin I would understand what is happening."

Tim sat up and rubbed his arm, looking away, "well, that's the thing Dick, I don't even understand what's going on myself. Bruce wouldn't listen, he – he wouldn't believe me."

Dick lifted his head, "believe you? Believe you about what?"

"Um, about the burning, I didn't _burn_ myself Dick, and I don't know who, or what, did." There was an awkward silence and Tim began to blush, apparently flustered, "I know I sound insane, and well, Bruce is even getting this person to talk to me – you know – about it. So I probably am insane. But I tried to tell Bruce _it wasn't me_, and he got real uptight about it and called me a liar and wouldn't believe me so - so I finally did lie."

Now Dick was sitting completely up, "Ok, slow down Tim, you actually told Bruce you were burning yourself when you really aren't?"

Tim nodded as he spoke, "it's just – he wouldn't listen at first. Last night when he found out he thought I was lying about my being clueless about the burns, and that was scary. But then I realized – _what if he really believes me that I don't know what's going on_? And that scared me even more. So I just told him I was doing it to myself." The boy groaned and looked at the huge house before him.

"The pictures, you didn't know what happened there either, did you?"

"No," Tim managed, clinging to his stomach, like he was feeling sick. "And Dick, I saw this thing in my room the night I found the burns. It wasn't human, but it wasn't not human – if that makes any sense. And before it got to me Bruce came in the room and it just, well it vanished."

Dick was silent as he watched Tim's expression; he hadn't the slightest idea what to say. While he wanted to be loyal to Tim and say that the boy was sane, he couldn't help but think that Tim _needed_ _help_.

"So yeah, now I feel really stupid for telling you," Tim admitted sourly at the silence.

"…Don't, I'm happy you told me, and don't worry – I won't tell Bruce - or Alfred for that matter. I won't tell _anyone_." He gave a small wink and rose to his feet. "But I must insist on something."

"What?"

"You come to the loft and stay the night, get away from the Manor. Ok? I mean, I doubt you've been sleeping real well here? So we'll camp out around the TV, sound cool?"

Relief seemed to flood the boy's face at the suggestion, but something clouded that over. "Yeah, but I can't go out as Robin at all – erm, 'cause of the burns."

Shrugging Dick made his way up the stairs, looking over his shoulder, "we don't have to go out tonight, I'm sure Bruce can manage for a night. And if it's so bad I'm sure he can call Babsy."

Tim grinned at the comment and followed the closest thing he had to a brother into the Manor, "thanks."

"Not a problem," Dick softly replied.

* * *

"Are you sure you think you can manage him? What if he dreams?" Bruce wasn't saying 'no' to the suggestion Dick had made, but he wasn't agreeing – not yet.

"Well, if he does dream I think I'll be just fine. Tim and I'll be in the same room together, so I'll hear him if he goes tromping around – I'm not a light sleeper. And if I see anything weird then I'll call you guys up and we'll talk it through." Dick replied, "Just say yes, I think he already was planning on it."

"I wasn't going to say no."

"Good, well then, I'll drop him off here tomorrow morning." Dick turned towards away, and took the stairs five at a time, making his way to Tim's room and barging in. "Hey, you about ready?"

Tim blinked at his friend and then smirked, "well, did he say yes?"

Dick clicked his fingers together as he spoke, "pha, you apparently underestimate me. I told you to pack, you should have _trusted_ me."

Chuckling Tim picked up his backpack and swung it over his shoulder, "I did pack. You apparently underestimate my trust towards you."

"Apparently I do."

* * *

Tim did managed to sleep that night- after a few hours of movies and a lot of pizza, it was hard not to. He grabbed an afghan and pulled it over himself, not bothering to get up and see about a pillow. And then he _slept, _finally.

Dick made sure his friend was sleeping before he even allowed himself the pleasure of resting. He figured that since Tim was the one with _having_ the nightmares it would only be right to wait till he was asleep. But what Dick didn't know, was that Tim wasn't the only one with the dreams.

That night involuntarily Dick left his loft, and left Tim alone.

_To be continued…_

Ari: I don't think I got better, I think it was just a good night, lol. But thanks! I know, I am so slow on getting that new chapter out for Oh Silent Prayer, and I feel bad – but nothing is coming to me for it. That and this is going so well. Maybe I'll just throw the next chapter in this fanfiction at you to beta for me. I just don't want to be like: here, edit this, and this, and this! But if you don't mind I'd be cool if you could edit this for me too. (I feel so mean asking) but I'd really appreciate it. I don't feel as silly when you work out all my mistakes, lol.

Silver: Hey, haven't talked to you all weekend! Wow, lol, it's been awhile! Keh, thanks for the review, as always, and I hope you'll be getting your fanfiction out soon, lol – sorry, I can't help but talk about it; I'm so excited about that fanfiction! I was listening to Relient K (MmmHmm) and track two reminded me of your fanfiction (A Day Without…) It goes: _I've been locked inside that house all the while you hold the key  
And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me. And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go, promise I'm going because I gotta get outta here - I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake- I gotta get outta here. _Yeah, obsessive, I know, lol.

Catgirl: heh, heh – thanks?

Caerula: Make me give something up – never! I will tell you this though, the ending may _shock_ you, lol. Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was actually kind of boring (to write as to read) but I needed it and there wasn't much of a way around it. So yeah, it's not so much fun. I like making Bruce evil, I don't know why, I must be evil. Hmmm. But trust me; next chapter should be much better, lol. Thanks for the review!

Blaise: Hints? Me? Never, lol, well, actually you might be able to figure out what is happening for real. It is in here, but it'd be hard to find. I mean, well, close to impossible, but it does kind of point at who or what or if Tim is doing this. Yeah, lol, does that help? Hopefully next chapter will be more exciting then this one. Chapter four is boring! But meh, it had to be written. Thanks for the review! See you soon, and thanks for reading Perspectives, it's a cool fic! LOL.

Sara: Hey you! I am in the process of E-mailing you back – believe it or not! The only trouble is your message is stuck on my computer, so yeah, and my computer isn't working. I have to use another one, so I can't get to your letter at all. Grrs. I deleted it on hotmail and so yeah. Sigh, you'll get a reply! Thanks for the review! I love your fanfictions too! I hope you update soon!

Shadow Avenger: Hey! Yeah, I don't plan to leave it unfinished at all. Unlike some of my other fanfictions out there, ehm, lol. Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you are enjoying it. The only trouble is this chapter was soooo sloooow! It was hard to write, and I bet it's hard to read, but next chapter will be interesting! Thanks, thanks, thanks!

Kinau: Long time no talk! LOL, it's good to hear from you again! Your review was fine, and it was long compared to some reviews I give (shameful of me). Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you got through this chapter ok – I know it was super boring, bleh, but I hope that you'll read chapter five – because I am hoping that is when things really start. _Hoping_!

Alfie: LOL, I love your review! Yeah, this chapter is actually a disappointment because you don't get much of anything out of it. You just get – brothers. But I had to write it, so I wrote it, but trust me, it'll get better by the next chapter. Thanks for the review, and keep your fingers crossed that chapter five will be bearable!


	5. Something to Hide

I need some sleep, you can't go on like this. I tried counting sheep, but there's one I always miss. Everyone says I'm getting down too low. Everyone says you just gotta let it go. You just gotta let it go, you just gotta let it go. I need some sleep, time to put the old horse down. I'm in too deep, and the wheels keep spinning round. Everyone says I'm getting down too low. Everyone says you just gotta let it go. You gotta just let it g, you gotta just let it go.

-Shrek 2 'I Need Some Sleep'

**Ghosts in the Closest:**

**Chapter Five:**

When Tim awoke he hadn't expected to be _alone_, but as consciousness slowly returned, he understood. Dick was gone, and someone – or something, now patiently awaited his awakening.

While Tim had yet to open his eyes he simply knew what was happening. He knew that that person, that _thing_, waiting for him was dangerous. And he knew that he was scared beyond out of his wits. The boy checked his breathing, trying to keep it steady. Tim hoped that whatever was waiting hadn't noticed a change in the pattern – hadn't noticed that Tim was now fully awake.

He couldn't count the number of times a criminal had given themselves away by uneven breathing.

There was a low grunt and then the sound of footsteps approaching. Tim felt the fear bubble up in his gut, threatening to spill over. He couldn't understand the reason he was _so_ **_scared_**. As Robin he had faced criminal after criminal – he had dealt with the Joker– and the fear had never been like this.

There was another grunt, which told Tim that the thing was hovering above him. The boy counted slowly as he took in a breath, '_one, two, three, four_, _oh god, I can't do this_.'

Cold hands touched his face, caressing his skin with spider-like fingers that twitched across his eyelids. The boy felt himself being lifted up by his head, and he opened his eyes, struggling not to cry out as he did so, the face that smiled sickly down at him made the boys innards turn. The face was all too familiar, but at the same moment –foreign to him.

Tim just stared, mouth hanging open, and body quivering.

* * *

Batman landed soundlessly beside the still form of Nightwing. The Dark Knight was straight to the point. "What are you doing out here tonight?" He crouched beside his old partner and carefully studied the young man's face.

"Nothing that concerns you," the young man rasped. He threw his hand back and smashed it into the Batman's face, and then attempted to retreat.

The Dark Knight took the hit, not expecting it in the least. Eyes flashing he grabbed Nightwing's arm, jerking him back.

"Release me, Bruce."

"_What_ did you call me? What are you thinking, you -,"

Something was wrong. Nightwing knew perfectly well what names meant out here. And Nightwing wouldn't simply lash out like he was. Something was out of place.

Batman grabbed Nightwing's shoulder and forced the young man to turn towards him. "What is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me?" Nightwing released laughter, laughter with his own voice, but in a tone and pitch that wasn't right.

"Oh Bruce, _really_."

Silence.

"What are you doing out here, running around like this? It's rather _childish_, and here I thought you grew up to be a man. It's disgusting."

The detective took the young man by the collar, pulling him close. "Who are you? What did you do with _Nightwing_!"

"Yes, what **did** I do with Richard; he is such a good boy. You brought him up sooo nicely." There was a pause, and then a smile. A dark smile, "Tim isn't half bad himself. In fact, _we_ enjoy his company."

Batman drew back his fist without hesitation.

"You'll be hitting your own, Bruce!"

'Then lets hope you'll get out of his body before I do any damage,' he growled to himself, allowing his fist to fly.

The fist connected with Nightwing's jaw, throwing the young man back to the ground, where he lay – not moving.

Batman crouched beside the figure. Suddenly Nightwing began to jolt and twitch, only to then fall still.

Heaving the figure up, the Dark Knight made his way to the Batmobile.

* * *

'I think I'm supposed to be dead - but I don't want to believe that.'

Tim gingerly lifted a hand to his head and slowly opened his eyes, blinking as he did so. Oh god, he hurt, he hurt everywhere. The boy pushed off of the floor, allowing himself a groan as he did so.

'They're gone. They left.'

Making his way to the couch he curled up tight, shivering. He wanted to call Bruce, but didn't dare. "A-ah, ah," he clutched his head and squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still see him hovering above him, smiling. His voices echoed in his mind.

_Whenever you call for help we'll come for you. We'll come back and do this again and again. _

'We'll, that means there are more than one – oh god, like it matters,' Tim thought in self-pity. 'And even if I did ask for help, there is no way that Bruce _would_ believe me.'

* * *

When Batman got to Dick's loft he slipped in, leaving the unconscious form of Nightwing in the Bat mobile. He needed to check up on Tim, make sure the boy was fine. Coming into the sitting room he clicked on a nearby lamp.

His eyes rested on Tim's small form. He was staring blankly out of the window, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. Tim's left eye was swollen shut and dried blood collected around his mouth. He jumped visibly when the door opened, but didn't acknowledge Batman's presence otherwise.

"What happened?"

Tim carefully turned his head to look at Batman. "Did you find Dick?"

"He's outside. What happened?"

"I couldn't say, when I woke up Dick was gone, and I've been waiting here for his return." Tim didn't make much of an effort to get to his feet. He just lied flat out and looked at Bruce, waiting for what would come next.

Batman slowly approached his ward. "You look pretty beaten up. Let's get home. We - we need to figure out who is doing this."

Tim looked slightly surprised; he lowered his hand and took his head slowly back, quirking an eyebrow. "What? I thought you didn't believe that -."

"Well, I was wrong, it would seem, now we need to get moving."

Relief flooded into Tim's face, and the boy gave a smile. "Right behind you!" He gripped the edge of the couch and weakly got to his feet, still beaming up at the dark figure.

Batman watched him limp towards the door. "It got you again?"

"It's ok," Tim told him with a smile. "Not so bad, now that you believe me I know we can stop -." The boy suddenly bit his lip and sighed. "Well, at least you don't think I'm crazy anymore, right?"

"I'm sorry Tim, and no, I don't think you're crazy. Could you make out anything, anything at all on what it was?"

Tim lifted his head and looked at the ceiling, "I don't know what to think about who is doing this," he slowly replied.

Batman was silent as he watched the boy limp out of the room, then turned to look around. The place was cluttered, furniture tipped, broken glass, Tim put up a fight it would seem, and the boy had won. 'He knows something and isn't telling me.'

_To be continued..._

**TP96:** Yea, a new Batman fan (or well, I've never met you… heh)! Yeah, I think we can all relate to that sort of thing. Thanks for the review, hope you enjoy the oncoming chappies, lol!

**Silver the Kid:** Yeah, I noticed you weren't E-mailing back, but I wasn't either – considering I was on Spring Break (New Orleans, haha!) I discovered why so many Canadians go – it's, like, French down there! Strangely enough. I watched all the InuYasha I could get my hands on – omg! It's sooo good! You like InuYasha, right? It was amazing! Just thought you should know. ;-)

**Daylight:** Hello, and thanks for the wonderful review! I am so happy you read it, and enjoyed reading it! I must admit, it'll be better this time 'round, considering the grammar has been mostly corrected, lol. Anyhow, thanks so much (once more) for the review! Hope you keep reading.

**Catgirl II:** Hehe, thanks for the review – again!

**TigerHelix:** Lol, people seem to think it's Batman Beyond more than anything – but if I gave it away it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it? Thanks for the review, again, and I'm sorry it took sooo long, heh, it's been awhile since the last update. I'm glad you are still reading! Enjoy ;-)

**Blaise:** You might have more of an idea on who it might be with this chapter, it gives away a little – but not much. I think you could figure out who did it – I think. I say that because I already know (lol – thank goodness). I hope this chappie's ok too! Thanks, thanks, thanks!

**Shadow Avenger:** You'll find out in due time who is controlling them in their sleep. Heh, and do you still have writers block? Such a bummer, I use to get that all the time – then I dunno, I haven't for a long while (thank goodness). Sorry it took so long to post this; did you get my E-mail explaining why it was soooo long since the last post? If not I meant to send one. Thanks again!

**Caerula:** I love you! I love your review, lol! Thanks so much for sending it – even though you were tired. And thanks for understanding about the last chappie being a filler, you're right – we all need fillers, but I just don't think they're all that wonderful to read. Thanks for the review!

**Kinau:** Haha, you make me laugh! No, I love your long reviews, who doesn't enjoy getting them? I must admit, you have me beat at the length though. Heh. I am a typer too, so I just write anything and everything that I can when it comes to talking to a writer. Chapter Five is a little more interesting, I think – at least a little more interesting than chapter four! (And it's been edited, so it's twice as good!) Anyhow, sorry it took so long, I was on Spring Break so I didn't write at all then. Thanks again, Kin! (It rhymes!)


	6. Parents

"We find the people of our dreams; we find that they're not what they seem. I've learned that people come and go. Toy soldiers brave away those tears, toy soldiers hope for better yeas. Hi-did-a-lee-o didn't you know, you fade once you glow? Didn't you know child, after the rhyme high time, did-a-lee o didn't you know? After the rhyme high time."

-- Toy Soldiers--

_**Ghosts in the Closets:**_

By: The BatThing

Edited By: The Wonderful Ari i.e. P!

**Chapter Six: **

"_How dare **you**! Get out of here!" _

"_But Bruce – I'm not lying!" Tim felt panic rise up as he looked at the man before him. _

"_Get OUT!"_

_Tim watched as everything around him faded away, and he was at Dick's loft, and they were there again; those creatures._

"_You shouldn't have told, Tim!"_

"_We warned you, but you didn't listen."_

"_Nothing left to do but punish you."_

_Tim gasped at their distorted faces. "Leave me alone! Don't touch me! Oh someone, HELP!" But his voice was nothing more than a whisper as the creatures slowly started towards him._

Tim jolted upright, clinging to his covers, the faces of the creatures still resonating in his mind. Rubbing his eyes he tried to forget the nightmare – after all, he hadn't told Bruce anything, so it's not like they would come after him.

He nestled back under the covers and tried to sleep.

* * *

'Why couldn't I have trusted him? Why couldn't I have listened? Things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand if I had just listened.'

Bruce sat at the Computer, head in hands, reflecting on the event of that night. He had sat and watched Alfred tend to Tim earlier tonight, and Bruce couldn't believe what he saw. Burns covering the boy's body, cuts, bruises, welts.

Tim was limping, and, despite his brave attempts to hide it, was in constant pain. But tonight he had smiled through it. He smiled up at Bruce, overjoyed to receive the long awaited validation, at last. The smile pierced Bruce's heart and soul.

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce lifted his head as Alfred walked towards him, hands behind his back, and head raised. The man quirked an eyebrow, and then offered a faint nod. "Yes, Alfred? What is it?"

"Master Richard awoke – as I had hoped, he is doing just fine, and recalls none of tonight's events." Alfred began to collect the stray bandages and medications that were scattered nearby.

"I trust he'll be spending the night with us?"

"He and Master Tim are sharing a room, I believe."

"Do you think that's a good idea, considering Dick's apparent possession?"

"Master Tim does not wish to be alone, and I see no indication that Master Richard is of any risk."

Bruce turned in his chair, looking up at his old friend. "It wasn't mind control, I'm sure of that, Alfred. It was something else – something that was inside him. And when it spoke tonight it didn't just speak of itself, it mentioned others. Meaning that there is more than one we have to worry about."

Alfred waited for the man before him to continue.

"That and…it knew us. Whatever, or whoever is doing this has a personal grudge against me."

"Can you be sure of that? It appears that it is doing more damage to Master Tim."

Bruce nodded, clenching his fists. "It's getting Dick now, and not just Dick – it's getting _my_ city."

"Perhaps an explanation is in order?"

Released a long sigh Bruce glanced at the computer screen. "I scanned the area where I found Nightwing, and hacked into a local camera that had caught a robbery. It was Dick. There wasn't a clear shot, but I could tell that much." Bruce paused and then shook his head. "It's using Dick to ruin my city, and in the end, get caught – possibly hurting Tim, and definitely unmasking me. When you look at the big picture, I'm the one it's coming back to. I'm the one sitting safely, unable to do anything. And it knows that doing nothing, and watching Robin and Nightwing ruining themselves hurts me worse than having me in Dick or Tim's places."

"You are not helpless Master Bruce, quite the opposite." Alfred glanced over the man before him, considering him thoughtfully. "You will find out who is behind this, in due time."

"Be sure of that Alfred. I'm bent on it more than ever."

"Very good to hear, sir."

Bruce sneered at that, and then swirled around in his chair, fingers flying across the keyboard, but still not through speaking. "Tim's not telling us something. Did you pick up on that?"

Alfred tilted his head a little, as if thinking back. "He seemed pleased, overjoyed to be exact."

"Yes, because I finally listened to him. But when I talked with him he seemed to be – I don't know - purposely avoiding the subject. I think he knows something and doesn't trust me to believe him."

Alfred shifted his weight, not planning to argue that one.

* * *

"Considering the events that have taken place, I have decided to make a few rules." Bruce gave a small nod at the two sitting before him. "I know what you two are going to say, but I would rather you hold it till after I have finished having _my_ say."

Dick glanced at Tim and rolled his eyes, causing the boy beside him to chuckle a little.

"Richard, that's enough." Bruce shook his head firmly, and then continued. "I want you both to understand that as of this point, I am unsure of how to stop what has been happening. But I will find a way. Until I do, I want both of you with one of the following persons at all times, Barbara Gordon, Alfred, or myself. Is that clear?"

"Is that all?"

"Timothy."

"Yes, it's clear." Tim answered with a sigh. "But can't Dick and I be together alone during the day? I mean, the only time those things have attacked is at night. So I think it's okay during the day."

Bruce glared down at the boy.

"What?"

"I recall you both agreeing to keeping all questions till I was finished." Bruce didn't wait for Tim to argue that, and plowed. "As for sleeping, I think it's best if you two stay together at night. I'm having cameras installed in Tim's room – where you'll both be staying, so if something does happen then we'll find out what is causing it, if that's possible."

There was a pause, and Bruce frowned. "You won't like this next part, but that's too bad. Alfred installed some monitors in Tim's room, so we can hear what goes on at night."

"Wait, you got baby monitors?" Dick looked disgusted. "Please, isn't that a little much?"

"Hardly, they aren't baby monitors, I think I can afford a little _better_ than that."

Tim screwed up his face. "So you'll be able to hear everything we say?"

Bruce nodded curtly. "Don't tell secrets you don't want me or Alfred to know."

"What if the technology all shuts down? What then?" Dick was pushing his hair back as he spoke, trying to act calm.

"Either Alfred or I will know if it does."

"How is that?"

"One of us will sit up with the cameras, each night we plan to rotate. I know you both won't enjoy this, but I think we can't afford any other nights like last night."

Tim groaned and slumped in his chair. "I'm a prisoner in my own home."

"I'm sorry you think that."

"Hey at least you are a prisoner in your own home, you at least have that luxury. I don't even get to stay in my own bed – no, I get to share your bed with you." Dick gave a little smile, showing he didn't really mind. And he didn't – he owed it to Tim to stay. He owned to Tim to get along with Bruce, and he owed it to Tim to try and act like everything was ok. "How long before things smooth out and I can head home?"

"That, Richard, is something I don't know."

Dick didn't like Bruce's tone. He didn't like it at all.

* * *

Tim snapped his utility belt on with a small laugh. "Geez, you'd think she'd of gotten over it by _now_." His eyes lifted to where Dick sat, sprawled out on the chair before the bat computer. "I mean, how long ago was that? Two – no three days?"

"It's been two days." Dick let out a small sigh and hung his head a little. "But, oh well, she called and said she was coming over to -."

"Talk, I know, you've told me at least _three_ times today, emphasis on the three."

"Three? What? Maybe one, or maybe two – but don't exaggerate, Timmy!"

Tim gave a snide smile in reply. "It's a shame you're missing going out just to talk to Babs. I mean – come on, it's Babs, what's so great about that?"

"What's so great about _her_? Well, if you take away all the bitterness, and all the hatefulness, all the girlish stupidity. Just shove it alllll away"-- Dick made an sweeping gesture with his hands-- "Just take away all that, that _stuff_, well – you've got one. Special. Girl."

"Sounds like great fun."

"Oh yeah, _lots_."

"I still say you should have gone for that one other girl." Tim pressed his mask to his face and smoothed out his cape.

Dick scratched his chin, thinking about which girl Tim could have meant. "You mean the blonde?"

"What? No, I _never_ met a blonde!"

"I didn't think so."

"I mean that Shelly girl, or Eliza, some name like that."

"I really haven't a clue, but I'm sure she was nice, and I would hate to forget someone like that." The young man got to his feet. "Well, uh - be well – and, um, and don't let Bruce push you around or anything crazy like that."

"Bruce? Push me around?"

Dick nodded a few times as he walked backwards, heading towards the exit. "Yeah, crazy thought, that one."

Robin rolled his eyes as Batman walked into the opening, looking upset about something that was probably nothing, but then again – who knew. "I'll see you soon, Dick."

Batman looked at Dick, and then to Robin. "Stay here tonight, Dick. Tim, let's go."

The Boy Wonder offered a sympathetic look to his friend before leaving, and as he neared the Batmobile he could hear a few phrases that didn't sound all that happy. Pulling the door down, Robin glanced at the dark figure at the steering wheel. "He'd be with Barb, don't you think that -."

"Not the time or place to discus, Robin."

The boy shut his mouth and stared forward, twisting his fingers together. "Fine, I'll ask you when we get home."

"If there's time."

"We don't need to have another talk, not another one of those – sit down and you bark out the rules while we sit in silence. I hardly think that should be considered discussing."

The car roared out of the cave and there were a few seconds of silence. "Later. Now we have work."

Robin lifted a gloved hand, spreading his fingers wide. He pushed it towards the dark figure and spoke in a sneering voice. "Five words, _five_, you really _are_ amazing."

The look, given to the boy in crimson, was enough to make him lay his hand gently in his lap, and fear opening his mouth for the rest of the ride.

* * *

"I want you to get him."

"Sir?"

A small smile made its way across the man's lips as he nodded. "You heard me correctly, I want you to bring him here, I think it's that time when Mr. Wayne finally found out a few of my reasons."

"Yes sir."

"Very good."

* * *

Robin spread his arms wide as he leaned forward, peering over the edge of the building. A gust of wind caused him an unwanted jolt to the right, but he caught himself, sparing a potential, and awkward, fall. Slowly he lifted his eyes to where the Batman stood, speaking in hushed tones with Commissioner Gordon. There was a file involved, and that was all the Boy Wonder knew.

The Dark Knight had instructed him to wait here, which was strange. It wasn't often that he was told not to come to hear the game plan, but apparently Batman had something in mind – and Robin wasn't to know about it.

It sucked, but at the moment he and Batman weren't on speaking terms. Or rather – he wasn't speaking to Batman. Tim was using the good old silent treatment. 'Not that it matters, I'm sure he's enjoying the silence for a change.'

The boy, on the other hand, hated it; he hated not conversing, and perhaps _this_ wasn't the best punishment for Batman. After all, to him it was probably more like a reward.

There was the flutter of a cape as the Detective approached his partner. "Let's go."

'Where?' Robin wanted to know where exactly they were hurrying off too, but he wasn't about ready to open his mouth and ruin the whole thing.

The two pulled at the cables, making their way across Gotham City. As they landed for a moment on a rooftop, it was Batman who decided to initiate conversation. "I took you here for a reason, I have been meaning to talk about that night at Dick's loft – you didn't tell me everything."

Robin gave a small jerk back. He looked up at Batman in surprise, and then pressed his lips firmly together, not willing to comment on that.

"Answer me." The baritone voice ordered, never requested.

It took a lot for the smaller figure to speak, and his reply wasn't well thought out. "You didn't ask me a _question, _how can I answer?" There was a pause in which the boy's plummet past the uproar of butterflies. "Sorry, I mean – uh, I don't know what you mean, really."

The Dark Knight seemed to ignore the first comment, though the Boy Wonder knew he wasn't so lucky. "I suspect that you're still telling me everything you could. If true, you had better tell me soon."

Silence.

"I won't be upset with your answer." There was a small sigh, and Batman turned to his partner. The line of his jaw softened ever so slightly. "It won't be like last time. I'll believe you."

"Then why don't you believe my answer this time?"

"You didn't answer; you said you didn't know what I meant. Your reluctance to answer tells me a lot."

Robin jerked his head away and folded his arms across his chest. "You're assuming."

"I'm analyzing."

"Whatever."

There was another break in the conversation before the Batman spoke again. "I won't put up with this; I'm not going to drag it out of you. Either you can tell me, or we can go home and follow another blind lead."

Swallowing a little, Robin weighed the possibilities. His answer would make Bruce mad – he knew it – it'd make anyone in his shoes upset. Not just that, those creatures had told him if he told they'd just make it worse. The boy put a hand to his head and covered his eyes. '_Stop_ _it_, he thought.' 'Bruce'll take care you. Don't think about what they said.'

"Robin?"

The boy kept his eyes covered, not wanting to answer, he just shook his head. He could hear the man walk towards him, then stop a few feet away.

"Robin, just tell me. I won't be angry."

The boy's hands pressed into his skull, as if that would make it better. What if Bruce kicked him out? There was always that possibility. 'Don't think about that stupid nightmare,' his conscious told him. But it couldn't be helped; the boy lowered his hands and felt on the verge of cowering. "No. I can't. You'll kick me out."

A little stunned at the reply, Batman's mouth dropped. "Why would I do that?"

"Because," Robin answered with a small gulp, "you'll hate the answer."

"Come here, no, come here," the man pulled Robin towards him, bending to his level and looking him in the eyes, "I won't kick you out, I won't yell, I won't blame you for telling me the _truth_."

Silent for a moment more Robin slowly considered. Finally he screwed his eyes shut and opened his mouth.

"It's your parents."

_To be continued…

* * *

_

**Catgirl II:** Thanks so much, as always I appreciate your reviews.

**Alfie:** Yeah, lol, wouldn't it be nice if there was time for real life and this? Meh, I'd get a lot more done if there was! Happy to see the review – and a lot more unfolded (ok, does that make sense?) in this chapter! Happy reading!

**Nyte Cat:** Yea, a new reviewer and reader! I'm sooo happy you like it, and I hope this chapter was ok too! Thanks for the review, when I saw it I about flipped – I love when I get new people reviewing (as well as the old!)

**Tp96:** LOL, glad you stepped into a new section of fanfictions (away from Buffy and the others for a short time!). Yeah, secrets in the Batfamily, lol!

**Caerula:** Here, here, all hail Tim! ;-) I so agree with that, and Bruce should grovel! Thanks for the review (as always) I love reading them because I am ever so greedy, lol!

**Erosgirl:** Thanks for the review, and thanks for reading the fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed this chappie:-D

**Blaise:** Well, you found out who it was in this chapter, did you have a slight inkling that it was them? LOL. It goes into more detail in chapter seven (thank goodness!). You finally watched ROtJ! Awesome! That movie does have the tendency to make me a little sick to my stomach, but it's history – and you can't just pass it by! ;-) Thanks for the review!

**TigerHelix:** Questions, questions, questions indeed! Hehe, what does it have to do with Nightwing or Tim? Hmmm, well – you'll find out in the next chapter (maybe?) I'm still unsure of which chapter you'll find out why they're involved, you find out you will! Ha. Thanks for the review! Loved it!

**Kin:** Ah, my loyal reviewer, and not to mention most detailed! I'm sitting here in computer applications trying to post this chapter today, but the teacher appears to be needed to lecture – let's hope I can manage. Hmm. Anyhow, haha, I just read your review for, like, the fifth time and I'm still laughing. Yeah, I dunno about spiders (I'm still unsure what's happening myself) we'll find out soon enough though, I'm sure the ending will be passable. Ack, he turned off the lights in class – I better go. Thanks for the review!

Cas


	7. Unwanted Guests

"I've got a wound that doesn't heal burning out again, burning out again. Not sure which of me is real, I'm alone again, burning out again. My hope runs underneath it all the day that I'll be home. It won't be long, I belong somewhere past this setting sun. Finally free, finally strong, somewhere back where I belong."

-Switchfoot 'The Setting Sun'-

_**Ghosts in the Closets:**_

_By:_ The BatThing

_Thanks To_: Ari, my awesome editor for this whole year. She's too cool for words. She didn't edit this chapter, but she's awesome as can be. Thanks for everything!

**Chapter Seven:**

Awkward silence, awkward - cold silence was all that Batman and Robin had as they stood, facing each other. Neither was willing to speak, one was much to shocked, and the other, much to scared.

It took a few moments, probably just a few seconds, before Batman was able to think straight. He lifted his head and looked into the sky, carefully closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. It helped, not that much, but enough. The man looked back to the boy and then nodded. "Alright."

Robin made an unintelligent noise and let his jaw drop. "Alright? What do you mean alright?"

"I mean we should go home, I told you I wouldn't get upset, and I intend to keep my promise." Batman dug out his grappling hook.

"You can't _not be_ upset, it's impossible."

"Then why did you ask me to do the impossible?"

Robin was silent, searching the city for a moment and then looking carefully at the dark figure. "You're Batman, that's why."

It was hard not to feel a smile want to start, but the masked figure pushed it aside. He quickly snapped in reply, not planning on letting the 15-year-old sense the unwanted smile. "Don't be absurd."

_**That Night:**_

"Your parents?"

"Yes Alfred, he said my _parents_ were doing this to him." Bruce turned in the chair and shrugged. "And what am I supposed to say to that?"

Alfred frowned as he thought through the matter. "Your parent's aren't doing this. It's not possible."

The man nodded. "I know, they wouldn't be capable of so much hate, but there isn't any way I could tell Tim I didn't believe him. Not after what I did before."

"It isn't 'doubting' to explain that your parents aren't capable of such – cruel hearts. Apparently someone is behind this, taking the shape of your parents perhaps." The butler glanced towards the darkness of the Batcave.

"Someone, but the question is who? I don't think there are many people out there who hate my parents enough to do this."

"I hope your feelings aren't terribly wounded, sir, but I believe there are more then enough people who have ill feelings towards you."

Bruce nodded. "I know. What better way to hurt me then this, then with Tim, Dick, and my parents? They're after me, but why. Who would be after me?"

"I have faith that you'll figure it out in due time."

"I will. And when I do, someone will **_regret_** what they've done to us."

Alfred nodded, offering a supporting nod.

The man glanced up at him, and then shook his head. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Sir?"

"I-I was afraid that I'd be forced to think it _was_ my parents. Thanks for being such a loyal friend to them."

"It's been my pleasure, sir."

Bruce would have smiled.

* * *

Alfred paced towards the door as the familiar tune of the doorbell rang throughout the house. The butler carefully opened the door, peering into the darkness. "Hello?"

"Mr. Pennyworth?" A man stepped forward, carefully tipping his hat. "I understand it's late, but the man I work for insisted I come as quickly as possible. I wish a word with your employer, if possible."

"It's late. Perhaps tomorrow, Mr. - ."

The man shut his eyes momentarily, and then shook his head. "It's an important matter, concerning the happenings going on in this house."

Alfred kept his mouth shut and his face blank.

"Now, I must insist that I speak to Mr. Wayne before the night is over."

The butler stepped aside, allowing the man to enter the house. "I'll see if he's awake, please – wait here."

"Of course."

* * *

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce looked up from his desk, away from the paper before him. "Hmm?"

"We have a visitor who insists he speaks with you. He gives the impression that he knows about our troubles." Alfred frowned as Bruce quickly got to his feet. "I'm not sure what to make of him."

Bruce glanced at the man and then hurried out of the room, coming to where the stranger sat. "Hello, I'm Bruce Wayne."

"Karl Ridger." The two shook hands and Bruce indicated towards the seat.

"How can I help you, Mr. Ridger?"

"My employer insisted that I speak to you. He is aware of what is going on with your two wards, and your parents."

"Excuse me?"

The man smiled. "If I may see your two boys, I'll be happy to explain more."

Bruce looked the man over and then carefully shook his head. "I'm afraid they're asleep at the moment. I'm more than happy to listen to what you have to say."

"Oh, I don't doubt that, but I cannot carry on until the boys are present."

"I see. Alfred, could you wake Tim and Dick?"

"Master Richard is currently with Miss. Gordon."

Bruce sighed. "Then could you get Tim?"

"Of course sir."

The two men sat in silence until they were joined by a confused looking Tim. Bruce indicated that the boy should sit down, and he did so without a word or protest. "This man, Mr. Karl Ridger, says he'd like to talk with us about what's been happening around here."

The doorbell rang again and Karl got to his feet as Alfred made his way towards the door. "I'd like to apologize in advance for this rude, well, meeting, but it couldn't be helped."

The butler opened the door and quickly stepped backwards as men forced their way in, guns in hand. Karl carefully pulled out his own hand gun and shook his head, looking truly sorry. Bruce got to his feet, glaring, but not saying a word.

"The man I work for is at fault for the happenings going on here. He'd like to talk with you Mr. Wayne."

"How dare you." Bruce hissed.

Karl nodded, as if he understood then pulled the trigger, allowing a bullet to cleanly slice through Bruce's left calf, causing the man collapsed to the ground.

"Master Bruce!"

"Bastard!" Tim screamed as he lunged for Karl, and a bullet shot off, whizzing past his head and causing the boy to duck to the ground.

"Stop it! Stop shooting!" Bruce growled to the men. "This isn't about _him_; it's about **me**, right? What do you want?"

Karl looked down at the boy and sneered. "Tie up the butler and boy, make it fast."

The men had no trouble tying up Alfred, but when they came towards Tim, he refused to be taken so easily. When they got in range, he kicked like mad.

"Mr. Wayne, I'm loosing patience. Either you make him stop or _we_ **_will_**."

"Timothy - do as they say."

"Like _hell_ I will. These guys are the people who are doing this to us! They did this to me." The boy jerked around, facing Karl. "Like _hell_ I'll back just down and let you tie me up."

A man lowered his weapon and looked at Karl, quirking an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"Very well, Mr. Drake, you can grace us with your presence. Take him with us, boys." And with that Karl turned and strolled towards the doors of Wayne Manor, ignoring Bruce, who was now shouting. He shouted over his shoulder. "Just shot him, tie him up, and get him in the car, _now_."

"He'll do as you say, this isn't about him, and it's about _me_! Tim let them tie you up, you _idiot_!" But no one really heard the man.

* * *

Tim opened his eyes with a groan. 'Where the hell am I?' He could feel his face resting on something cold, and even a little damp. The boy groaned once more, feeling it necessary. He pushed up, coming to the sitting position as his eyes adjusted. That's when he remembered. "BRUCE!"

He was in a cell, a small cell with only his jeans on. His shirt, shoes, socks – everything had been stripped. The boy shivered, feeling the cold. At least when he had been asleep the cold hadn't bothered him so much. But that didn't matter, at least not now. He needed to find out where Bruce was. The boy meandered over to the bars and looked around as best as he could.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

The boy couldn't help but feel frightened. He gripped the bars tightly, trying his best to breath. Bruce would be all right, and then, Bruce would find a way to get them both out and unharmed.

Two hours later Tim finally heard footsteps approaching his cell, and he hurried back into the dark. He was interested in what was coming his way, but also somewhat anxious. The raven-haired boy watched in silence as a few guards pulled to a stop in front of his cell, peering inside.

"This is the one; bring 'em here." A guard said as he pulled out some keys. Before he unlocked the door, he gave Tim a steady glare. "You try anything kid, and well, I'll let Gerald here have his way with you. By the time he's done, you won't know which was is up, and which was is down."

Gerald was huge.

There was a growl then. "Leave him alone. He won't do anything."

"Bruce!" Tim _knew_ that voice!

_Whack_. Bruce grunted, but didn't argue further.

The guard opened the door, stepping inside, and then moving away so a few more guards could enter. Gerald was among them. The brute of a man walked right up to Tim, looking the boy in the eyes and smiling a yellow smile. "Having a good time, kid?"

Bruce came into sight, limping into the cell with two guards at either side. "Tim, don't -."

_Whack. _

Gerald shook his head, turning back to Tim. "Having a good time?"

The boy didn't answer, not knowing how to answer. No, he _wasn't_ having a good time, but he wasn't about to make the man mad.

"Is that a no?"

"I - uh -." Tim looked at Bruce who gave a steady look, then back at the man. "I don't know, j-just woke up."

"Well, we'll all make sure you have a wonderful time, kiddo." The way he said it told Tim that this was going to be hell. And with that the man turned away, followed by the rest of the guards, leaving Tim and Bruce alone in the cell.

There was a silence that ensued, and Tim couldn't help but break it. "Are you ok?"

"What the **_hell_** were you thinking!" Bruce was livid, his cold eyes colder than ever. He continued bellowing. "DO YOU KNOW WHERE WE ARE? Timothy Drake, you are an idiot! A _god **damn**_ idiot!"

The boy kept his mouth shut, backing a way a little. "I couldn't let them _just_ **_take_** you."

"Well, you sure as _hell_ are a great help here, aren't you!" Sarcasm all around. "So much help! You think that they're going to let you be? I don't _believe_ you. You know what they're planning to _do_ to you?"

"Uh, n-no."

Bruce stopped there. He shut his mouth and turned away.

The boy was scared, scared stiff. Scared because, apparently, Bruce was scared. And Bruce scared meant his fate was bad, which meant that Bruce didn't know what to do. "B-Bruce?"

"I'm thinking, Tim. We need to get you out of here."

"You too." Tim made his way to the man's side. "I can't leave without you!"

"You _can_ and _will_, unless you enjoy time with the Joker? Or perhaps Two-Face?" Bruce smacked his forehead and then looked at Tim, a little worried.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, ok? I don't mean anything." The man slunk to the floor, looking at Tim. "Are you ok?"

The boy was still for a moment, and then shook his head. Plain as day, he replied. "No. I hate you. You're a bastard." And with that he sat down, glaring at the ground. _'Bruce is just scaring you, that's all. He's just scaring you.'_

'_No he's not.'_

Bruce was silent, looking at his hands, then at Tim. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

The boy shook his head, refusing to answer.

"Timothy."

"We're in a goddamn prison, waiting to be tortured, and you lecture me! I'm about to become a 'plaything' for the Joker and you lecture me! I just spent the last few weeks thinking I was insane, thinking I was doing _this_ to myself." The boy indicated to a series of burn marks covering his body. Tim let it all out, all the stress. "You didn't trust me! _You just got mad at me_. And – and … you're a fucking jerk!" And Tim burst into a wave of tears.

Bruce didn't move at first, he let Tim cry, which just scared the boy all the more, causing him to go from scared to petrified.

"Stop it, Tim." Bruce was on his feet again, looking around. Never a man who had been able to apologize well, he did the best he could. "I have no intention of letting them hurt you."

"Y-you can't stop the, the Joker." The boy felt stupid now, as he tried to convince the man that he was doomed.

"I can." The man didn't budge. "Now calm down, you're a bit old for that."

The boy sniffed, and then hid his face, not happy with Bruce. Not happy at all.

The two sat for half an hour in silence when footsteps rang through the hall. Tim got to his feet and walked to where Bruce sat. "What's the plan?"

"Nothing at the moment, we'll see who is coming and then I'll tell you." Bruce looked up at the boy, and then slowly, as if it hurt, got to his own feet.

'_That's right, it would hurt, he was shot … son of a bitch didn't tell me how he was though, no had to tell me what a goddamn idiot I was.' _

It was Gerald, the huge guard, and he stopped in front of the cell. "All right, Mr. Wayne, our boss would like to see you, if you would?"

"What of Tim?" Bruce looked evenly at the man. "He's coming with?"

"No, he's staying here."

"I'd like him to come with."

Gerald laughed, laughed hard. He shook his head. "Oh, no, I don't think so. He'll stay here, and if something happens to him, it happens. Tough luck, Mr. Wayne."

"He comes, or I **will** put up resistance."

There was silence that followed, and then Gerald pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Wayne's giving me some trouble, wants to bring the boy with?"

"What the hell, tell him no _fuck'n_ way."

"He said he'd fight me if I didn't let the boy come." Gerald blinked, glaring at the object in his hand.

There was a moment of silence, then the answer. "Bring the kid; the boss wants to meet him anyway."

"You're lucky, Mr. Wayne." Gerald replied as he opened the cell. He waited until Bruce walked past him, and then grabbed Tim, placing a gun carefully to his temple. "Let's just make this easy, you give me trouble, and I'll give you trouble. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good, then _walk_,you son of a bitch."

They went up four different flights of stairs before coming to a halt in front of large double doors. Gerald gave a firm knock, keeping the gun in sight, though he did lower it. "Sir, I have Wayne here to see you."

"That would be _Mr_. Wayne, Gerald, where are your manners?"

The three turned around to see Karl standing peacefully behind them. "Please, go on in, he's waiting to see you."

_To be continued…_


	8. Gerald

"You stand in the line just to hit a new low. You're faking a smile with the coffee to go. You tell me your life's been way off line, you're falling to pieces every time, and I don't need any carryin' on. 'Cause you had a bad day, you taking one day, you sing a sad song just to turn it around."

-Daniel Powter 'Bad Day'-

**Ghosts in the Closets:**

By: The BatThing

**Chapter Eight: **

Tim walked into the room, following behind Bruce in silence, but keeping his eyes open. He had to find something – anything – that might be of use to escape. The boy's eyes rested on a large desk, where a man sat, hands folded politely.

"Mr. Wayne, please have a seat … you too, young Timothy." The man drew his hand out, indicating two leather chairs positioned before his desk. He smiled gently as he watched the two take their seats, ever watching him. "You may call me Sigmund Hedda, and I was the one who brought you here."

"If I may be so bold to assume that is not your real name." Bruce replied calmly, as if this were one of his day long business meetings, and were getting straight to the point – as to not waste time. He studied the man, studied him for some type of recognition, but found none. "You must not like me, Mr. Hedda."

The man just smiled a little more, then got to his feet. "It's not something I wish to share, quite yet, Mr. Wayne. You know how it goes, I say too much, you figure me out … after all, you _are_ the Batman. The last thing I need is you stopping this before it starts."

Bruce didn't reply at first, but then slowly answered. "You already have the lead. I wasn't able to figure you out at all. I must admit, you still have me somewhat confused."

"Just _somewhat_?"

No reply to that.

"Very well … I understand that I need to clarify a few things. As you might have guessed, I had no intention of bringing your young _squire_ along for the ride. It was his choice. Karl told me he was a gentleman about the whole ordeal, and calmly explained the situation. So, don't blame us for the boy's misfortune." There was a pause, eyes studying the man – waiting for a reply. He got one.

"I intend to blame you for everything that happens." Bruce said.

The man now was looking at Tim. "We do have a strange situation on our hands, Mr. Wayne. You see, I do not care for the boy, but it seems that he is here."

"I know what you're after."

"Excuse me? Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce shook his head. "You're after revenge. I've done something to you. The question is _what_. You aren't willing to share your reasons with me, fine. You say you don't want Tim here, yet seem to be keeping him. You're a liar, whoever you _really_ are. You don't fool me."

Sigmund Hedda came in front of Tim, carefully bending down to look at the boy. "Anyone could figure that out. I'm surprised you would ask why Tim is still here, when he's in ears reach."

Bruce just glared. "Stop playing games."

"You called me a liar. It's true, I'm a liar. So, you don't enjoy that? I'll be honest." He placed a hand gently on Tim's head, and the boy pushed it off. The man just replaced it, forcing the boy to meet his eyes. "So, you want to know what we plan to do with you? Why we haven't let you go home? Bruce wants you to know."

Tim didn't answer, and he couldn't, Bruce was speaking before the man finished. "Stop it, Mr. Hedda. We won't have your games."

"Now we're formal again, are we?" The man smiled, and moved back to face Tim. "I'm keeping you, Tim, because other people want revenge, just like I do. Well, it'll be hard to get revenge when I'm the one with Batman. So, I plan to sell you, to the highest bidder."

"I said _shut_-**_up_**." Bruce growled.

"And I'll let them do whatever they please. It's a nice revenge, don't you think? So nice, I just might go back and get the other boy. Richard is it?" The man moved away from Tim, and towards Bruce, who's expression had hardened a great deal. "I've told the truth, are you pleased? I see not. Well, there is some bit of good news. Carl and I are the only one's who actually know about your secret identity. We can't tell anyone else for fear that they'd sell that information."

The doors to the room opened with a bang as a man rushed in. "Mr. Hedda, it seems that – oh." His gaze fell on Bruce and Tim, and he immediately closed his mouth. "I didn't realize you were in the middle of, um, a conference. I'll be going."

Sigmund just chuckled. "Please, stay. These two were just leaving. I'd be happy to discuss the problem at hand. GERALD! Please, come escort these two out." The man looked at Bruce, a smile, polite as ever. "I hope you'll be comfortable, and if anyone mistreats you, just feel free to tell me."

* * *

Tim slid to the ground, shivering a little as the cell door slammed shut. He was silent, chewing on his lower lip as Bruce paced around. The boy gave a little sniff, wondering at what degree death would occur from cold. He gave a little smile at the thought, and rubbed his arms. 

Bruce suddenly stopped, glanced the boy's way, and frowned. He gave a shake of his head and sighed. "They took your shirt."

There was a pause, and Tim slowly nodded, finding it hard to believe that Bruce was just now realizing the fact. "Uh, yeah – they took it before you came."

"I noticed but just never really… oh, never mind." He walked over to the bars, and attempted to look down the hall – which turned out to be impossible. He grunted as he slid to the ground, looking carefully at the boy. "Are you ok?"

The boy gave his head a little turn, as if he didn't understand the question.

"What that man said, you know it won't happen."

Tim opened his mouth, eyes growing large as if he were ready to rush into a huge explanation, but then lowered his head – a picture of a boy who had just been scolded. "I believe you."

Bruce nodded. "I'm not sure who he is yet, but I'll figure it out. All these guards, one of them are bound to give away _some_ sort of clue."

The boy nodded, looking at his hands, and then back at the man. He swallowed, wishing that he could be anywhere than here. It sucked, like – bad. "When are they going to start?"

Start what? Tim didn't have to explain what he meant. Bruce put a hand to his head. "I'm not sure, Tim. They have no reason to wait with me, but I'm going to guess that it'll be awhile before they get a group together for you. We have time still."

There was an awkward silence and Tim thought of things he could say, wondering if the man were a little worried. "So, um, it's not the nicest place, this cell, huh? Dirty, wet, cold, bare …"

* * *

The night came and Tim had a fitful sleep – it seemed, to him, that Bruce didn't sleep at all. Rather, the man seemed to be up just staring at the door keeping them in. "Aren't you tired?" 

Bruce looked over, a little surprised the question. "I'm just thinking."

"Of how to escape?"

"Yeah."

Tim nodded, looking down at the floor. He released a long sigh. "Listen. I'm sorry. About it all, how I didn't do what you said, and how I yelled at you. I just was scared, I guess."

The man studied the boy momentarily then gave a quick jerk of the head. "I think you had reason to yell, after all that's been going on."

There was a gap and Tim leaded forward, his cheeks flushing. "I didn't mean to cry like that. It wasn't anything you said, or that I didn't think you'd get me out of here. I just couldn't stop myself."

"I said not to worry about it."

"Ok." Tim leaned back down, trying once more to get some rest.

* * *

"I'm warning you." 

Tim opened his heavy eyelids and rubbed at his face. He gave a small yawn as he rolled over to sit up, and to his surprise – Bruce grabbed him – forcing him up and shoving him to the wall. "Ouch!" The boy rubbed his head, but stopped at the sight of Gerald holding a gun at Bruce.

"You don't have much choice. You can only get shot so many times." The man growled. "_Move_!"

"I told you." Bruce growled. "Now get out."

Gerald shook his head and stepped forward, ramming the butt of his gun at Bruce. It was his loss though, as the billionaire quickly reached out and flung the weapon to the ground. And with that, Bruce delivered a hard blow to the man's unprotected face.

Tim watched in silence, holding his breath the whole time. He gave a little gasp and his mentor grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the cell and fleeing down the hall. "We can't make it out like this." The boy managed as a siren went off over head.

Guards flooded the hall, guns in hand – all pointed towards the two figures. The 15-year-old watched as Gerald stormed towards the two.

"Son of a bitch, try and pull that again!" And with that he pulled out a small gun and fired. A dart shot out, hitting Bruce right in the shoulder.

The unmasked Dark Knight kept a firm grip on Tim's arm. "You aren't takinganyone, so help me, if I have to kill you, it'll happen."

"Make sure they don't get the same cell again!" Gerald shouted to a nearby guard, as if the whole thing were his fault. "Damn it. And get the boy from him."

Bruce was still standing, unwavering, but Tim could feel the grip loosen. The boy turned around, grasping the man's arm. "Bruce? Bruce, are you -."

The man collapsed to the ground. "I s-said."

"BRUCE!" Reaching out, trying to grab his mentor, Tim felt a hand clamp onto his arm, and then there was a prick in his arm and the boy lowered his gaze, discovering a small needle. "Let me _go_!"

* * *

When Bruce Wayne awoke he could still feel the effect of the drugs. The man pulled himself to his knees, trying to look around. "Alfred?" And then he remembered. Without another thought, he made his way to the bars of the cell. "HEY!" 

A guard did appear at the sound of Bruce yelling, but he wasn't Gerald. He looked the opposite of the man. Small, frightened, and slightly confused about what was really happening. "What?" He clutched his gun tighter.

"Where the hell is Tim?"

"Mr. Hedda called for him. It's ok though, he should be back soon." The guard then looked lost. He stood for a moment, staring at the ground. When he started to walk away he looked back for a moment. "I'm sorry, but it's our lives. They killed Gerald, you know, for not being able to control you. I'm sorry; I don't have choice – what I do – I don't want to ..."

"Why did Tim get called? Why! Do you know?"

"I-I, I can't say." The man answered. "I'm sorry, but I can't. He's alive though, he'll be back soon, and we'll put him in the cell right over there."

Bruce glanced over to where the man pointed. It was the cell right beside Bruce. "I can help you."

An anxious glance, and then the man started to walk away.

"I can pay you; I'll get you out alive."

Bruce sat in silence for half an hour. He waited thirty agonizing minutes, unable to divert his mind from thinking about the 15-year-old. He swore again and again, over and over, that if they hurt him he'd kill every last one. And then, after thinking those thoughts, he grew disgusted with himself.

Flickers of Dick came across his mind, when his eldest had been hurt by Two Face, the Joker, or just some no name criminal. Each of those times Bruce would make an oath, he'd promise himself – and then he'd never keep it. He promised he'd never had another Robin, yet look where he was now. Once more, the man was blaming himself.

When footsteps approached the man's confined area, Bruce got to his feet and looked to see what was happening. There was the guard, with a few other's, dragging Tim towards the cell.

The boy was awake, but he made no effort to move, just allowed himself to be dragged around like he were incapable of walking himself. And when they opened the door to Bruce's cell, Tim went to his knees – never once looking at his mentor.

"Mr. Hedda said you have one last chance – otherwise they'll move him to another place." The guard told Bruce, looking carefully at the boy he had just delivered. "I know this probably doesn't mean anything, but I'd do what he'd say. You won't be able to get out, Mr. Wayne, you might as well offer some comfort to the boy while you can. And if you get moved, you won't be able to."

The door closed with a rattle and silence engulfed the room.

"Tim?" Bruce questioned, kneeling on the ground before the boy. "Tim – are you alright? What happened?"

The boy didn't lift his head to acknowledge the man, he didn't speak. He sat, wobbling slightly.

"Tim?" The man drew the boy's face up, looking into the boy's eyes for a moment, and only a moment, till Tim quickly looked away. He was still under the effect of drugs, but Bruce could see he was able to think and move freely. The boy was acting this way by his own choice. "What did they do?"

"I'm fine." Tim finally answered, forcing the man's hand away from his face. He moved away, crawling to the wall where he sat down and rested his head. "I'm just fine."

"What happened?"

The boy looked up, and then shook his head. "Nothing."

"Don't lie. Tim, what happened? What did they do to you?" Bruce came before the boy and crouched down once more. He put an awkward hand on the boy's shoulder. "I need to figure out what we can do to end it, but unless I know I can't -."

"_I don't want to talk about it_!" The boy screeched. He pushed the man away once more, flinging a hand in the air – like he was swatting away a bug. "Don't you understand! I don't _want_ to tell you!"

Bruce pulled him back. "You need to. I need to help you."

Tim glared. "No."

A pause and then the man sighed. "Did you talk to Mr. Hedda?"

"No."

"Did you see Gerald?"

The dark-haired boy fell silent at this.

"They said he was killed." Bruce offered.

"I-I, I didn't want to." Tim answered, looking up. "My dad, he was there, dad was there and I didn't want to."

At this Bruce gave a little jerk, not expecting what the boy had told him. He was utterly and completely confused. "Your dad?"

The boy nodded, looking rather pale and as if he were struggling to keep back the tears. "I didn't want to."

"You didn't want to what? Tim? What happened?"

"They made me, _dad_ made me, _they made me_. Said if I didn't then … then …" He shook his head, breathing deeply. "I didn't have a choice, it w-wasn't my fault."

Bruce was silent, trying to piece the story together. He could venture a few guesses to what had happened, but didn't want to say it aloud. The man scratched the back of his head and watched as Tim started to rub his hands together – like he was getting grime off of them. "You saw your father, just like you saw my parents? Is that it?"

The 15-year-old Boy Wonder nodded. He looked down at his perfectly clean hands and then rubbed them on his jeans, trying hard to get rid of the invisible substance.

"He's not real, Tim, just like my parents. So anything he said to you, anything he might of done wasn't rea -."

"WELL, ITSEEMED REAL ENOUGH!" Tim suddenly shrieked. He didn't look at the man; rather shut his eyes, body trembling. "It's real, they're real. He talked the same, he smelled the same, he looked the same, he sounded the same, he acted the same, he knew everything … and he was the same. It was him."

Bruce said nothing as Tim held out his hands, towards the man.

"They made me. I didn't want to, they made me."

"Hurt Gerald?"

The boy nodded, miserably, holding back his tears. "K-kill Gerald."

_To be continued …_

**Candleblaise:** LOL, lunch breaks, always fun. Mine are either too long or too short. I'm glad you're still reading this! Yea. XD As for The Play Ground Boys, I'll continue with it if you're still interested. I kinda' jump around, but I can work on that one I suppose, lol. I just kinda' let it go, but I'm always up to take it back … usually. In this case I am. Thanks for reading!

**Mermaid Ninja:** They might, I'm still unsure of what is happening. Is that bad? I think it might be, I just write and write till and ending comes. Bleh, I need to end that habit. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! Always awesome to hear from new reviewers, makes my day.

**Caerula:** You're review made me laugh, in a good way – and in a lot of ways. I had just lost my editor, so this is the first chappie where she didn't edit, so that made me laugh. She was a really big help, and it's obvious, lol. Also because I always do that: "Are you coming with?" My friends are like: "DIE! You fragment freak." But thanks for pointing that out, it really helps to hear what I do wrong. :-D. Feel free to point out anything else you see.

**Shadow Avenger:** You need to update your fanfiction! Bleh, I'm in need of a good read. So put aside my fanfictions and work on yours! ;-). I hope you update soon, but I know better than to push a good fanfiction. When that happens, it's not so much fun to write. Thanks for reading! Talk to you soon.

**Cycloptic NightBat: **Yea for reviewers! LOL, updating is second when it comes to reviews. LOL, that is for me at least. Updating is rather important, but I love reviews! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you keep enjoying it. Feel free to offer any suggestions or such. XD

**Robin IV:** LOL, sorry for that. I just lost my muse at the end of chapters. I had an offer the other day for a muse, and I took my friend up on it. So now, when I end like that, blame him, not me. He's supposed to inspire me, but I think he'd doing a poor job. Tisk. LOL, thanks for the review!

**Leahblueeyes: **Yes, Dick Grayson is growing on me more and more. I do love his character so much in the comics; I'm not going to lie. Not so much in the cartoon series. I think I need to write him in more, along with Barbara and Alfred. They're all super important characters, but they don't get much credit in my fanfics. I think you just inspired me, maybe … hmm, ideas! Maybe I can get Dick into this, that'd be fun!

**Trunksblue:** Hey, my friend from That's a long title. Anyhow, thanks for all the reviews, lol, that made me laugh. It's always good to get like – ten reviews in a row. I try to do that when I read a fanfiction that has a zillion chapter that I enjoy reading, but most of the time I don't. Ok, I think I've done it once. Anyhow, thanks for all the reviews! Keep writing and drawing. XD


	9. Talking

**Looky-Looky: **Trunksblue drew a picture of my fanfiction! Gah! I've never been so happy about writing a fanfiction. The picture is like, awesome! Thanks again, Trunksblue! You can't leave links on here, for some reason, but it's at deviantart . com. Just look for wunderwulfe - and it's titled Bruce Wayne. XD

**Authors Note:** Special thanks time! Back in the day I'd write short, one chapter stories. My first editor told me that if I kept trying, I'd be able to write more and more – get longer fanfiction. I thought he was idiotic, but as it turned out, he was right. So thanks to him for getting me to write 13 chapter fanfiction … I know it's not that long, but I'm building. ;-) I get the best editors.

"'Cause honestly, I'm not that strong."

**Sanctus Real** _I'm Not Alright_

_**Ghosts in the Closet:**_

By: The BatThing

**Chapter Nine: **

When Bruce awoke he did not know where he was. It took a few moments for his head to clear and for things to get oriented, but he managed. It was dark, it was cold, and Bruce was far from happy. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. With a grunt the man sat up and moved towards the bars. He glanced around, found a guard snoozing to the right and frowned. He found the lock to the cell and cursed it under his breath, as he had so many times before. He hated this lock. He found old fashion locks more suitable, and easier to break. Of course then, that would defeat the purpose of holding the Batman captive, wouldn't it?

The man sighed and took a step back, thinking about Dick for a moment. He hoped his eldest was being _smart_. Dick was smart, and Bruce trusted him, it was just … Dick was Dick, and Bruce worried about him. The man Dick was trying, Barbara and Alfred too, but that wouldn't save him. He needed to try too, find a way out, especially before they tried to get Tim again.

The man glanced at the boy and was slightly surprised to see the teenager watching him with little interest. He had thought Tim to be sleeping, and was a little disoriented, all over again, when he saw that this wasn't the case. "Are you alright?" It was a dumb question.

"Yes." No.

Bruce tried his best to give a smile of comfort, but knew he was failing miserably. "Do you want to talk? You want to talk about what happened?" Dick had been easy to be a parent too, and the billionaire never knew why Tim was so _different_. Perhaps it was the fact that Dick had been so innocent, and so eager to show what he was feeling. Tim snuck around when it came to emotions, and Tim had dirtied his feet a little more than Dick had at his age.

"That won't help us escape." The raven haired boy replied, as if Bruce were ignorant.

"That's not true. Any information I can learn, any clues I can get will be of help. You know that."

Tim shut his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. "This guy, whoever he is, he's good. I was looking around, trying to see if I could figure out anything – who he is. Nothing came up."

"I doubt anything will." The man answered. "We may not even know him."

"He knows you."

Bruce nodded as he rubbed his hand across his eyes. "That he does." The man glanced around, he knew this place was probably wired, it would be idiotic not to wire it, and the billionaire gave his capturer the credit of not being an idiot. He also gave his capturer the credit of knowing that he knew.

Tim was now tracing his finger across the floor, mapping something out – Bruce didn't know what. He just watched for a moment, and then turned his attention where it was really needed, freedom.

"Good morning."

Bruce mad a noise in the back of his throat as he spun around. How the hell had he not heard this man sneak up to the bars? A glare was fairly placed and the unmasked Dark Knight stood up, weary to approach their holder. He didn't know what was going to happen, and he didn't have a plan, but he wasn't going to show that was the case.

"Sleep well? It appears that your guard did." Sigmund Hedda glanced at the now fully alert guard sitting on the chair to the right. "We will have to see to that later."

Tim winced and looked away.

The guard looked sickly as he got to his feet, slightly panicked. "S-sorry."

"Of course you are." Sigmund replied with a smile. He then turned back to Bruce and Tim. "Think of a new means of escape?"

"You're a smart man, Mr. Hedda, you should know better than ask."

"Just engaging in conversation, you understand." He glanced around with a disgusted face. "This really isn't the place to be."

Bruce didn't feel up to playing these games. "Then why did you come?"

"To see how Timothy was doing, it was an awful thing that happened the other night. I hope you are managing alright." He tossed his hand in the air. "Gerald was a good man."

"Fuck off." Tim said in a voice no bigger than a whisper. He was glaring at the ground, not looking at either Bruce or his tormentor.

"Charming." Sigmund replied. "You have another child, Mr. Wayne, perhaps he's better mannered? I just hope he, unlike this one, does not try anything stupid. If he stays put, we will not have any problems. And if you behave, and if young Timothy behaves, though you both seem to have troubles doing so, I will not have him brought here. Understand?"

"Threatening me doesn't do you any good." Bruce growled.

The man smiled as he started back down the hallway. "We'll see about that."

The guard was watching with wide eyes, he looked at Bruce and then back down the hall. His hands holding the gun shook violently. The billionaire felt sorry for him, but that didn't do anyone any good. Rather than offer some comfort, he moved back to where Tim sat and slunk to the ground beside him. "We'll -."

"Figure something out?" Tim finished. "Yeah, you've told me that before."

"I will get us out of here."

The boy nodded, still glaring at the floor. "I'm mad."

Bruce looked around the cell for the thousandth time since he woke up. "I don't blame you, motivate that anger."

At this there was a snort and the boy got to his feet, walking towards the bars. He gave them a kick and then turned back to face Bruce. "I'm an idiot. I should have listened to what you said back home, I'm so mad that I couldn't just think about it, I could have been helping Dick. I could have been doing _something, _but I'm here, doing nothing, and causing more problems."

"… Tim."

"It's true! If I wasn't here they wouldn't use me against you. You could probably be out of here by now, but they threaten you with _me_! This is so stupid. _I'm so stupid_!" Tim swung around, glaring at the guard listening in. He looked ready to say something, but maybe the fact that the guard was sentenced for torture by Sigmund stopped him from doing so. He just gave the bars another kick, for good measure, and then heaved a sigh.

"You saw him threaten me with Dick just now." Bruce said.

"You were mad the other night." Tim snapped - his mood ugly. "You were mad at me then, but not now. 'Cause you feel sorry for me!"

Bruce couldn't deny that. "I was stressed out before. I shouldn't have yelled like I did. And of course I feel sorry for you, I'm sorry that you have to go through this. What happened, happened, there isn't anything we can do about it now. Just let it go, don't worry about it anymore."

The teenager looked far from convinced, but he didn't speak any more on the matter. He put a hand on his stomach and sighed. "I can't wait till I go to college."

It was the most out there statement Bruce had heard. He chocked slightly and looked up at the five foot three figure. "What?"

"I'm just hungry, s'all." The boy shrugged his shoulders as his stomach gave a groan at the thought. "Alfred's big on healthy food, you know? But when I go to college, I'll get to eat whatever I want."

The man shook his head. "Well, when we get home I'll tell Alfred to be more lenient."

"Yeah right, like you'd win that argument." Tim didn't smile, but he looked a little less anxious. "How about you just sneak food home to me, that way if he catches me I won't get into trouble. I can just blame you."

"Yeah." Bruce wasn't sure what to say to that.

"It was a joke." Tim slid to the floor, starting to look sour again. "Man, I'm hungry. You know what's good?"

"What?"

"Strawberries are good."

"I'm pretty sure Alfred doesn't hold back strawberries." Bruce answered.

"I know, but they're still really good. Dad got us strawberries once, real strawberries from some woman who grew them. He used his well earned drug money." The boy gave a smile. "They were real good. I remember we split 'em fair. We ate them on the way home, it was summer, and the strawberries were hot from the sun. They were _real_ good."

The man nodded, listening to the story, wondering if maybe Tim would talk about what happened the other night, now. After all, he brought up his father, maybe he was trying to build into the conversation? Bruce didn't push it, he knew better. He replied, keeping the subject on the boy's father. "Drug money, huh?"

Tim blinked, coming out of the memory and looking at Bruce. "Huh? Oh, yeah. You know dad."

"I've read about him."

That earned the man a smile from the boy. It was slowly replaced with a frown. "I think Dad, I think he would have liked you. I mean, you two are like opposites to the extreme, but I think he would have liked you."

Bruce was silent, not sure where this was going.

"I don't know."

"It doesn't matter if he would or wouldn't like me. I think he'd just be happy that you're ok." Actually, the man couldn't safely say this and be sure. He didn't know Tim's father any better than he knew Sigmund Hedda. He just hoped that this might spark the boy to talk about why this conversation came up, which – Bruce figured – was due to what happened last night.

"I guess so."

Maybe being insensitive was the only way he'd get Tim to talk. "Tim – why are you worried about what your father would think?"

The boy shrugged. "Just thinking s'all."

"Did he say something to you last night about me?"

The boy looked up, eyes widening a little. He studied his mentor momentarily then dropped his head back down. "Yeah."

"Let me guess, he didn't like me."

"Yeah. I was just thinking that my dad would have liked you, so that means that it can't be him for real. That he was just trying to get me to -."

Bruce smiled, and the reaction he got was strange. Tim stopped talking immediately, looking with a sort of awe. "It wasn't your father, Tim. You don't need to think that much into it. Your dad, he loved you right? He wouldn't make you kill someone, so it's safe to say that it's not him."

"But what if -." The boy shook his head. "What if it is him? What if he's mad at me? And what if you're parents are mad at you? What if it's their evil side, or something?"

"My parent's didn't have an evil side."

"Mine did."

Oh. Bruce considered that comment very blunt. There went his argument, right out the window. "If it is he's 'evil side' then why would you care about it?"

"'Cause he's my dad."

"Well, if he has an evil side then he has a good side. I'm sure the good side of him would be upset if you considered what you saw last night to represent him." Bruce was starting to feel hungry himself now. "Your dad had some good to him, and that is what you should remember."

Tim seemed to like that. He nodded and gave a half smile. "I guess so."

"What did happen last night, Tim?" Bruce held his breath, ready for a glare and then total silence. He didn't get that though, perhaps his advice had earned him a few points.

"They took me to a room. It was dark, real dark."

Bruce hoped his explanation would extend beyond it was real dark … just like the strawberries were 'real good.' He supposed he should be thankful the boy was even talking. He ignored the groans of his stomach.

"I was in there for a long time, and then Gerald came in. He didn't look happy." The boy stopped talking for a moment, as if ready to back out of the story. "He said some stuff, just to scare me, and I talked back – but he didn't hurt me. I thought he would. Instead he just looked at me and then laughed. I guess that scared me more, he started to laugh and laugh, then came at me. I – uh …"

"It's ok."

"He hurt me then." Tim slowly said, looking sickly as he said it. "But he untied me so he could do it. I guess that was his mistake. I managed to hit him, make him stop, and I ran out. They caught me though, brought me to another room, and dad was there. He was standing there, like nothing had happened. He started to talk to me, tell me things, talked about revenge. He then said that you were using me, just like mom used him. Said things, said that I was the only person he ever trusted, and – and that I just replaced him with you. He got mad then."

Bruce could see the boy shivering, and it just made him all the more upset. Too bad Gerald was dead, because he would have killed him, he _wanted_ to kill him. He'd kill Sigmund, he'd kill him. '_Just like you killed the Joker and Two Face_.' Damn.

Chattering teeth made it hard for Tim to speak. "Dad asked me what I thought of Gerald, I didn't tell him. They gave me a gun. And dad said that if I forgot what Gerald did to me then he'd go get the security camera's video and show me again. He kept talking to me about revenge, and I guess he knew I wouldn't kill Gerald. So they sent me to that black room again, and Gerald came back. I –I tried to tell him, he wouldn't listen. And I guess they knew I was … weak. It only took me three times, Bruce, and then I killed him."

The boy wasn't crying, and that surprised Bruce more than anything. Yes, Tim was shivering, he looked sick, he looked scared – but he wasn't crying. "You're ok."

"I'm not sorry about it either." Tim said in a small voice, bitterness interweaved. "I _hate_ Gerald. I wanted him to die."

"Me too."

Tim didn't fight that. "I was wrong to kill him. You can say it."

"Tim, you know I'm not going to tell you that. You were forced to kill somebody, even if you wanted to – even if you're not sad that he's dead – that doesn't mean if given the chance you'd have killed him. It's not like you just pulled a gun because you were mad."

"They're going to make me into something I'm not." Tim said. "They're going to try and make me into someone else."

"You aren't that easy." Bruce replied. "You're strong."

"D-don't let them take me again." Tim whispered. He moved beside his mentor timidly. "I can't go back again."

"I'm trying, Tim."

_To be continued …_

**Robin IV:** LOL, I didn't see your review till around … 11 pm tonight. I started writing right after reading it. And it's now 3:30 am. For your information I have to get up in three hours, your review is to blame. It inspired me. XD Thanks for leaving it, I was happy to read it, I needed the extra kick/nudge/inspiration.

**The Skirt Girl:** I'm trying, lol. It's not a matter of writing more. It's a matter of updating more, lol. I write each chapter three different times, haha, I really need to just write and post, because I'm very slow. Thanks for reading, and thanks so much for the review!

**Mermaid Ninja:** Yeah, I've considered it. I still haven't a clue, but we'll see how it turns out. I'll surprise us all. Maybe I'll make it all a dream. HAHA, I wouldn't dare do that. I think people might kill me for my unintelligent mind. Thanks for the review! Thanks so much for it.

**Cycloptic NightBat:** I did have a chapter where Bruce freaked, but it didn't work. I mean, he freaks, but not very much. I think I'm straying away from making Bruce the same as he is in the real Batman. Gah, hopefully it'll work out though. Thanks for the review, I'm glad you're enjoying it. Sorry it's taking me so freaking long! You'd think I could spare a few hours to get a new chapter out, right? LOL. Thanks!

**Leahblueeyes:** Ah-haha! Yes, I take years and years to update. I think one day people will just stop reading. I'll be like_: hey, were did all the readers go?_ And then discover that they've all died of old age. XD Thanks for reading, and reviewing. Sorry it took so long, bleh, I'm a slacker.

**Caerula:** I love that I can spell your name without looking now. I think it's a talent. XD I typed it out and checked, and I was totally right with the spelling. Praises for me! Anyhow, glad you liked the last chapter. I think I'm about dead tired now, so I don't know exactly what I've written in this one, but I hope it's alright. Thanks again!

**Trunksblue:** Yeah, still clinging to the picture you drew, it's my claim to fame. LOL. I'm glad you enjoy the fanfiction, it's kinda like … dying. I love writing it, but I need to get the right amount of inspiration, orther wise it doesn't happen. I'm so lazy. I will finish it though, even if it takes me 100 years, which I hope doesn't happen. I intend to have the readers still alive when I finish it. XD


	10. Wind Chimes

**Author's Note:** Flog me, I've been gone so long! Also! Go to and search for the artist: _Wunderwulfe_! She drew a picture from the last chappie, and it's great! If you can't find it then type in Casity and look at the favorites, it's there too! It's my favorite drawing! It inspires me!

**Warning: **A bit of abuse here and there, wish I could word that a little differently. Nothing in detail, so it's not so bad. XD

"When the rain comes it seems that everyone has gone away. When the night falls you wonder if you shouldn't find some place to run and hide, escape the pain. Hiding is such a lonely thing to do. I can't stop the rain from falling down on you again. No, I can't stop the rain, but I can hold you till it goes away. When the rain comes you blame it on the things that you have done. When the storm fades you'll know that the rain must fall on everyone. So rest awhile, it'll be alright. No one loves you like I do."

**Third Day **_When the Rain Comes_

_**Ghosts in the Closets:**_

**By: The BatThing**

**Chapter Ten:**

The guard was _scared_. He paced a lot, talked to himself, and gave the two he was guarding nervous looks. The fact that he had been caught dozing when Sigmund had came worried him, it worried him a lot. He looked pale as he turned on his heels, walking back across the length of the hall, eyes shifting across the floor. Bruce watched in silence, thinking of how to properly use this situation. Tim, on the other hand, sat in the corner of the cell, staring at the wall – staring into nothing.

It had only been an hour since Sigmund had come and gone, and _nothing_ had happened. It was as if the day might pass without any special events … then again, the day wasn't done _yet_.

"Are you alright?" Bruce sat still, not moving from where he sat, not willing to risk anything.

The guard jumped a little and looked at the man he was guarding, then down the hall. He didn't say anything, just moved back to his chair and sat down. He stayed put for a few seconds but then hurried to his feet, and then sat back down – running a hand through his hair. "Oh god."

Tim was watching from the corner of his eye now, things were starting to happen – and he wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

The man at the bars stared at the ceiling and chewed on his lip, deep in thought. He sat for close to ten minutes, and then got to his feet – approaching the bars. His face held a determined look, and he stared right into Bruce's eyes. "He's going to kill me, so you gotta' know, I didn't want to do this. A bunch of us were offered a simple job – stealing things. I agreed, I can do small time crime, but not something like _this_. I got a wife and two kids, I would never hurt … I'm one of the few that Mr. Hedda didn't connect. Most of the guards are wired – controlled; you won't get any help from them."

The sound of footsteps, people running down the hall – yelling. Bruce was now on his feet, eyes wide and staring at the simple guard who was telling them so much.

"In their ears, you'll see it – Hedda doesn't have anything against you. That's what I hear. He's a business man, nothing more and nothing less. Wants big money, so he called all the big shots around the world to price you off, get good money for you. I don't know much, but I do know that he isn't the one in -."

_BLAM_.

The guard fell to the ground, hands holding his stomach and he whimpered like a baby. Another guard came then, and gave the traitor a kick in the head. A few others came to the area, holding their guns and simply staring at the man on the ground bleeding. Then Sigmund came into the center, smiling at Bruce and Tim. "Mr. Antonio, you have told so much to our prisoners, I take it you were trying to be a hero? Well, thank you for that, I am sure it will do them absolutely no good. Now, before you die, I just wanted to say that your family will be brought here. I want to meet the people you care so much for, and then. Who knows, maybe I will have the boy here do it."

Antonio couldn't say anything, he was dragged away crying and holding his gapping wounds.

"Take the boy out and put him in the cell here. You -." Sigmund pointed to one of the guards that looked especially upset. "You are now stationed _here_. Work the boy over, show Mr. Wayne what will happen if he tries anything."

"Yes sir."

Bruce moved back, stepping in front of Tim and shaking his head at Sigmund. "I already know what will happen, Hedda, you don't need to prove any point. I understand."

Sigmund smiled and inclined his head. "Make sure to drug Mr. Wayne before entering the cell. I have a feeling that he will not be working very well with us. And … before I leave I think we should talk." The man moved towards the bars, motioning for Bruce to come forward, but the man did no such thing. "You prove to be troublesome and I _will_ have the other boy brought here, and I _will_ make his life miserable."

"I believe you, there is no point that needs to be proven, sir." Bruce did what he could to sound agreeable, he couldn't let them do this. Not this. "I won't be any trouble. There is no need to move Tim away."

Mr. Hedda simply turned and walked away, leaving the newly assigned guard to stare at his two new jobs. He didn't move at first, just looked Bruce over in silence.

"I wouldn't come in here if I were you."

The guard pulled out the tranquilizer gun and silently waved it about. "You so much as make a move towards me, and well, Mr. Hedda will just make matters worse for you. The kid will end up worse off than what he would have." A lifted his gun and before Bruce could utter a disagreement, pulled the trigger.

Bruce let himself be hit, and he felt bad for it. Tim didn't say anything as the man slipped to the ground after a few short moments. The boy just watched as if it were normal. Bruce just couldn't bear it … the thought that helping Tim would mean making things worse. He couldn't bear not being able to do anything … and they'd bring Dick in. They couldn't bring in Dick. Dick was … Dick …

"_Lookit, lookit!" _

"Dick?"

"_Don't you see it? Look! It's still breathin'! It's going to be alright!" The smile of an eleven year old, he was crouched down by the small baby bird. His jeans were grass stained, and his bare feet as brown as the earth they rested on. "Bruce!"_

"…Dick."

_Small hands holding the small and flightless bird, lifting it towards the sky – towards the sun, never willing to believe something like this could be shattered. "Fly, bird, just like your mama! She's up there waitin' for you."_

And while Bruce Wayne lie, drugged into sleep, dreaming of precious memories – remembering faded smiles - Tim Drake was crying as quietly as he could under the constant pain being directed at him.

MCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMC

"_Fish are like broken glass in the sun."_

Bruce Wayne sat up with a start, looking around as the world around him slowly came into view – made sense. He started to remember, dreams faded fast. The faces he had seen became like ghosts, vanishing and leaving the man haunted. "Dick?"

_No_. Bruce shook his head, still feeling the effects of the drug in his system. His head throbbed as he forced himself to stand, looking around the darkened room. He shuttered a cough. "Tim."

Nothing, just the dark shadows etched across the wall, slowly moving and saying nothing. They company they gave was as real as their forms. He forced himself towards the bars, coughing as he did so, wondering why his throat felt so tight.

"_Fish are like broken glass in the sun. They shimmer under water, Bruce. When they talk, I bet they sound like wind chimes." _

"Looks like he's unconscious, Wayne, now keep it down." The guard was positioned in the chair, glaring at the man. "Stop being so … insensitive of others. I bet little Tim is worn out from his long day he spent."

"Where is he?"

"Right there." The guard lifted his hand and pointed to the cell to the left of Bruce. The man moved towards it, thankful that bars acted as the divider – and not some cold and thick stone wall.

The man squinted, forced himself to see through the layers of dark, and he made out the still figure of his 15-year-old partner. Tim was facing him, but whether he was awake or asleep – the man just couldn't tell. It was too dark to see, to dark to know. "Tim?"

The figure shifted a little, but nothing was said.

"Tim."

"You dreamed." The soft voice could barley be heard, and from the sounds of it – the boy was hoarse. His voice cracked with just the two words, and faded away quickly.

"Are you alright?"

"Shit, why the hell would he be alright?" The guard was glaring all the same. "Stop asking shit-dumb questions."

There was a moment of silence and Tim whimpered a little, doing his best to sit up. The boy wasn't using his left arm. He held it tight to his chest. Without any word, Tim crawled towards the bars where Bruce was crouched. When the teenager came into the light, it was hard for the billionaire not to show surprise. The boy was beaten and bruised, covered in blood – an eye swollen, lip swollen.

"…What did you dream about?"

Bruce stretched his arms through the bars, his hand smoothed across Tim's sore face. The boy winced a little and it hurt to see. "I'll fucking _kill_ you before this is over." Bruce growled, turning to the guard and getting to his feet. "You and Hedda, Karl, all of you."

The guard fell silent, at a loss for words.

"Maybe you feel safe, but I'll get out and I'll kill you."

"I wouldn't be talking, man. Mr. Hedda says if you act up he'll get your other kid." The man was gripping his gun nevertheless.

Bruce stared him down a bit longer, and then turned back to Tim – sitting on the floor in front of the boy and ignoring the startled look.

"_Do you know what wind chimes sound like? Mom says that there isn't a sound like it in the world. She says it's the sound between summer and autumn, when the leaves are thinking about turning color, when the black walnuts start to fall, a time when something good meets something good – and nobody knows what to call it."_

"Bruce?"

The man looked at the boy before him and nodded, clutching nothing, fists tight as they rested against the cool stone ground. "Where does it hurt the most? Did they break anything?"

"I – uh – I guess my arm, but it's just bruised up a bit. I think it'll be fine, just hurts to move it. Nothing broken here, nothing yet at least." Tim forced a partial smile. "I'm not too worried, well, I hope that Antonio guy is alright."

"Me too."

"You're worried about Dick, aren't you?" Tim's eyes were soft, but underneath the innocent question was a sort of hurt that couldn't be expressed. There was a jealousy almost, something that the boy didn't want to feel, but he couldn't help it. "You kept calling his name while you were sleeping."

The man shook his head, looking at Tim and not seeing beyond the question asked. "He's a responsible young man, of course I worry, but I think Dick can hold his own. I've just been remembering a lot of things he use to say. Things that seemed annoying then, but now – they start to make sense."

The broken teenager listened in silence, wishing with everything that he wasn't feeling so _sad_. He was the one who had been hurt, he was the one who was suffering … and Bruce was thinking of _Dick_. "I miss Dick too."

A look followed by a nod. Bruce did his best to smile, but knew it was a worthless attempt. He couldn't smile, not now … especially not now, but he tried – like Tim tried. He felt so sleepy. The man put his hands between the bars and brushed a hand through Tim's hair. "You're both so … different."

Tim was silent as Bruce backed away from the bars and nodded to the boy opposing him.

"I think … I'm still drugged." And he lay on the floor, falling asleep without much time wasted.

"Different." Slinking down, Tim got as close to the bars as he could, forcing his body up against them and wishing he could break them. Bruce was out cold, and it was a strange sight. Bruce sleeping soundly - dreaming. Tim moved his arm through the bars and moved it against his guardian. Just the slight touch, knowing that he wasn't all alone, knowing that there was someone right next to him, it helped. Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the pain. He focused on his arm resting against Bruce, reminding himself that the monsters weren't real. That dark would go away, and the shadows would fade, leaving nothing but the warm touch of the sun.

It was a pleasant thing to think.

_To be continued … _

**Fae Child19: **I'm honored! If you aren't a big batman fan and you like it, well, that's just awesome! Glad you stumbled on it again, just know I'm sorry it took so long to update. Ehm, lol. That's sort of awkward that it took me practically half a year! I should be gutted or something. ;-) Thanks for the kind words and review, It's always a treat to get people who like your story because they like it. It's really great.

**Lpgohanfanatic: **Define 'update soon', lol. I'm so awful Woo, just realized I'm listening to sad music still. I think it's time to switch to a little Chika-Cherry-Cola, compliments of Savage Garden, lol. There, that lightens my mood. Thanks again for the review, and sorry it too me so long. I'll just use the excuse that I was turned into a werewolf? Hmm, almost. XD

**The Bat-Ninja: **Loyal fans, lol, that's pretty cool. I have a feeling people are going to start not being loyal since I took forever and a day to make the next chapter. And here is the sad news … I wrote this in like, a few hours. Hmm, I suck. Just shot me. I'll drink Gatorade and wonder and reflect on reasons I couldn't write this. LOL, thanks so much!

**IndianneJones101**: I did E-mail you about the fan character, right? I think I did, 'cause I meant to! I remember reading that and thinking I needed to E-mail you! I'd love to read what you've got, I'd be honored to read it. I'm like, in the air and floating with this story. I have an ending, but the middle is mush. You know? I'd be happy for suggestions, even if I can't work them in, I'd love to read what you wrote! I totally mean that. Thanks so much for asking!

**RobinIV: **This time this chapter wasn't an all nighter … it was an all … two hourer? Something like that, lol. Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. This one finally is done, lets hope chapter Eleven won't take me twenty months just to get written, ha!

**Candleblaise: **HEY! I remember you! Do you remember me? Probably not, 'cause I've been gone forever. Hmm. I need to work on that. I hope you aren't too mad it too me this long, I don't know what kept me from writing, I just couldn't get things to flow – you know? I just couldn't write what I wanted to read, and it was all bleck. Glad inspiration finally came, lol.

**Zantac the Barbarian: **I've decided to marry you, lolirl, you made me laugh so hard when I read what you wrote! That's the funniest review _ever_. Funny and sadly … true. I was thinking about my bad habit of not updating fast and you came to mind. It inspired me to write this chapter … and not a thing in Spring Break. That story is dead like my ramen noodles. I'll keep trying at it, but it's hard to write! You keep me laughing though, and who knows – maybe I'll get inspired! Tips hat

**Trunksblue: **Hey girl! Gah, I updated! After having my writing spree in OSPoMT, it's about time I got workin' on this one, right? LOL. I'd say so. It's sort of boring though, tell me if you think of any good ideas I can include in this … 'cause frankly, it's bland. You know? It's like: DRAMA! And there is no more life to the story. I mean, I know what I want, but it's like dragging and lacking. Hmm. Talk to you, son – father. LOL, good joke, good joke.

**Caerula: **I should have been hunted down and killed by this point, lol. The college part was inspired by my college self. I want to buy a cake and eat it. I hate being a girl, I do! I want something more than diets and exercise! I want to live a life filled with cake and icecream, MnMs, and pizza … hmm. I wish I were a boy and could eat like a criminal. LOL.


	11. Needing an Opening

"Que tengo la camisa negra y una pena que me duele. Que maldita mala suerte la mía que aquel día te encontré. Tengo la camisa negra porque negra tengo el alma. Yo por ti perdí la calma. Te digo con disimulo que tengo la camisa negra y debajo tengo el difunto. Pa enterrartelo cuando quieras mamita. Asi como lo oye hija."

"I wear my black shirt and I've got sorrows that hurt. What damned bad luck I have of walking into you that day. I wear my black shirt, because my soul is black, and because of you I no longer calm. I tell you in a sneaky way that I wear my black shirt, and underneath I am but a corpse. Bury it when you want to, mommy. Hear it as you want to sweety."

Tengo la Camisa Negra _Juanes_

_**Ghosts in the Closets**_

**By: The BatThing**

**Chapter Eleven: **

Dick awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed with a sort of gasp. He felt a cool breeze wash over him as he sat, eyes adjusting to the dark room around him. The moonlight grew brighter with each passing moment until the young man was able to relocate himself, realize where he was - Wayne Manor, in his old bedroom, sleeping in his old bed – surrounded by his old trinkets and treasures. A jar filled with coins, pictures of smiling people framed and for show, a stack of baseball cards, the old Holmes Fan – turning and turning.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the gypsy got to his feet and walked towards his open window. The scent of the Manor surrounded him as he met the outdoor view. For a moment he just stared into the dark, looking at the trees towering – and above and beyond – Gotham. "Fuck you." He glared and turned on his heels, headed for the hall where he made his way to Bruce's empty bedroom.

The door was unlocked, and he pushed it open – entering in silence. He just had to figure out the mystery in all this, the reason it happened – he had to be the detective Bruce had trained him to be. Dick had spent almost his whole life working to save lives, the lives of people he didn't even know. He would spend hours figuring out clues, connecting dots, figuring out things … and he would save them. He would save a person whom he owed nothing, and they would be grateful. Other times they wouldn't even realized that they had been saved. They would just go on with their lives, unaware, unknowing of what he had done for them.

And it didn't bother the young man. It never really had, at least not that he could remember. It was more of the feeling he got doing it, the knowledge that he had done something _good_. And he liked that feeling, he liked it a lot. It was something that couldn't be taught. No, it was something you had to feel for yourself to understand.

Passing people on the streets, seeing them smiling, seeing them singing quietly to their music. It was that moment, knowing that he had made some sort of expansion on their lives. He had been able to help them in some little way.

But now, even though he had spent his life doing these … selfless acts … it just wasn't enough. And now, after years of training, he wasn't even able to get a lead on this mystery.

Dick walked to Bruce's window and opened it, putting a hand against the screen, staring into the distant city. "Fuck you." He felt guilty saying it, he really did. Gotham was like a hostage that had been taken, and no matter how hard you tried, nothing could help her. She was always in the bonds of this … pollution, crime, poverty.

There was a knock on the door behind him and he turned with a start. Barbara Gordon stood, looking a little confused. "Are you alright?"

"M'fine, what are you doing up?"

"I just got back from some rounds, everything's pretty normal out there." She gave a smile and tried to look light-hearted. "Are you sure you're ok? You look … pale, and you haven't been getting a lot of sleep these last few days."

"M'fine."

She nodded, twisting her hands together. "Alright, well, if there is anything you need, you know my number. I better be getting home."

"Thanks, Barb. I'll talk to you later."

"Uh-huh."

Dick waited a few minutes after seeing her tail lights fade into the distance, leaving him in a state of dead thought. He just stood, numb to his surroundings – not thinking anything. That's when he saw it, something flash across the yard for the house. He squinted his eyes, trying to catch sight of what he had seen again. There was nothing.

The young man hurried out of the room and down the stairs, making sure to leave the lights off and be a silent as possible. He had seen _something_ and with all the things that had happened, he knew better than to just let that slide by. Sneaking into the sitting room he lowered himself behind the couch, carefully looking out the window, as to see if he could spot anything there – he found nothing.

"Boo."

Dick gave a start, as he swung around and let his fist fly at whatever spoke to him. It was caught, grasped by someone's hand. "Who the fuck are you! What are you doing -." He was suddenly stuck across the back of the head and fell to the floor, knocked out.

"Sir?"

Karl stepped out into the moonlight, looking down at the older boy on the ground. "Just bring him fast."

"Yes sir."

* * *

"Guess what?" Tim said to the guard sitting outside his cell. The boy gave a partial smile, which hurt a lot considering his face was practically one bruise in and of itself. "I bet you can't guess."

"You're right, I can't." The man growled.

"I hate you."

Bruce couldn't help but almost smile at the comment. He leaned his head against the wall with a sigh. Having awoken that morning with a bad headache, his moods weren't the best, and while it had faded some, it wasn't completely gone. Turning a little he saw Tim slowly rotating his hurt arm. The boy looked a whole lot worse than he had last night. His bruises had turned dark and he moved much slower.

The boy kept talking though, as he moved his arm. "You think that maybe, considering last night, you could at least get us some food?"

"You get water. So until Mr. Hedda says that you get to eat, you can just shut up!" He glared at Bruce, just for good measure – and probably for show. "Any more dumb questions."

"You gotta' be bored." Tim answered. "All you do is sit there and look at us. I mean, come on – that has to suck. Do you hate your job? Don't you wish you could be doing something else? You got to suck if that Sigmund fuckin' Hedda put you here. I mean every guard we get, ends up dead."

A flush caught the man's face. "Don't talk about the boss like that."

Tim sneered, arm forgotten and focus now fully on the guard. "Why not? You can't say that you like him – he apparently wants you dead."

The guard was now on his feet. "I mean it, little bastard, you keep talking and I'll shut you up."

Bruce stopped Tim from taking that chance. "He'll stop."

"Good!"

Tim turned to face his mentor, looking a little sad. "I'm hoping this guy doesn't kill us off with starvation. I'm really getting hungry. I just keep thinking of all the food I could be eating and I -." His stomach growled, causing him to laugh a little. "Catch that?"

Bruce nodded, not sure what else to do.

"God, this sucks."

And Tim was in a good mood? The man turned away, looking into the hall and wondering how the boy was able to make jokes and talk like things were … well, normal. The man had never felt like a bigger failure in his life. He had been caught, he had been contained, and now he couldn't do anything about it. Every possible way out seemed to evade him, and time was wearing thin. The man had promised Tim that he would get him out safely, and what if? _No what if, you're going to get him out of here even if it kills you._

Sparing a moment, Bruce glanced back over to the boy, interested to see what the teenager was up to. He looked rather interested in nothing, poking his hurt arm and muttering under his breath in hushed tones. At least he could entertain himself for the time being. The man got to his feet and walked towards the bars, looking around for what seemed the millionth time. And once again he saw everything. All the possible ways he could escape, all the things that would work to his advantage … he just needed to be out of these bars. That's all he needed. To be out in the open, that was the only way out.

He just needed that chance.

* * *

_One, two, three four, pause, two three, four, one, two, three, four, pause, two three, four. _Dick kept the chant going in his head, never relenting, knowing that if he did then he'd start to take in his surroundings, start to pay more attention to the pain being inflicted on him. _One, two, three, four, pause, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, pause, two, three, four. _

"He's stronger than the other one." Karl said in a quiet voice to Sigmund, unnoticeable flinching as he saw the knife slide under the boy's skin, peeling a small bit off. Oh, he had the stomach to watch, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. He was simply – use to it. Torture, he'd had his share of both ends of that world. Now he was just a witness, and it wasn't as enjoyable as Sigmund was acting like it was. "Of course, we haven't hurt the other one like this."

"This one is just for fun." Sigmund answered, leaning forward, peering out the glass window that separated him from the boy that was being cut on. "To make Mr. Wayne see that I'm serious."

"I think he finds you rather serious."

At this there was a long silence as Sigmund turned to study the man at his side. He squinted, shaking his head slightly from side to side. "You don't seem to be enjoying this – after all, it was _your _idea. If I recall, you were the one that contacted _me_. This is your reward, enjoy it while you can. You're finally getting back at the Big Bad Bat."

Karl glanced back towards the boy in the room and watched for a moment – more to make Sigmund happy than anything. "What do you plan to do with him?"

"I plan to give him to Bruce once he starts to shed some tears. If he'd only _fucking _**cry**!" Sigmund hit the glass with his balled up fist, looking angry. "Why isn't he crying?!"

_He's as insane as they said he'd be. _Karl bit his lip and stepped away, turning towards the door and taking his leave, wondering if this was really such a good idea. Everything has been going so well, he was happy to see that Bruce had gotten so upset the other night – over the cameras, but now …

It wasn't like he was going to change his mind though. Bruce Wayne would pay. _Batman _would _pay_ for how Karl's life had turned out. And if that meant hurting the children, well – so be it. If that meant Sigmund drooling over the blood spilled … that was fine. He would do anything to get his revenge, anything in the world.

"_Kirsten_."

* * *

Food did come, to Tim's great delight, and the boy ate it without wasting time. He made the occasional whimper when he moved the wrong way, or gasped at the shots of pain that seemed to be coming more and more.

Bruce, on the other hand, ate very little. He watched the guard with very little interest, and finding the food somewhat disgusting. How the boy was acting like it tasted so good – it was unknown to him. The meal had been tossed through the bars, a plastic bag filled with some sort of substance that Tim labeled: mashed potatoes. Well, whatever it was – it had almost no taste.

"It's not as good as Alfred's food, but it's good." Tim said.

_Ok, so maybe I'm the only one who thinks it's gross._Bruce offered a nod of agreement, taking another bite and lifted his head at the sound of a door opening.

The guard was on his feet, looking in the direction of the noise, and relaxing at whatever he saw. He was silent, giving Tim and Bruce an occasional glance to make sure they weren't acting strange, but mostly keeping his full attention on whatever was coming towards him.

Within seconds Tim and Bruce were able to see what the excitement was about – and it made the billionaire's blood boil. It was Dick, his eldest, being dragged, bleeding all over, and unconscious. "_What's the meaning of this_?! _Sigmund and I had a deal_!"

"You fuckin' broke the deal." A guard snapped, pulling out the tranquilizer gun. "You cause problems for Mr. Hedda, he pays back ten times what he owes."

Tim was silent as he watched the guards drug Bruce yet again. It took a few minutes, but soon enough it was clear that Bruce wouldn't be causing any troubles. They opened the cell door and dragged Dick inside of it, then turned around and slammed it shut, though not before leaving a gallon of water.

Bruce made an attempt to move towards Dick, but only collapsed to the floor, unable to keep his balance. "Damn it." He felt like he was going to be sick as everything around him seemed to spin. They had given him a little more than usual, and it was working fast. He found himself fading off, falling into sleep, and his thoughts coming to a halt.

Tim turned to the guard that looked slightly pale and then back to Dick. "Is he going to be ok?"

This caused the man to look surprised and he backed away from the cell, taking his seat once more – giving Tim a mean look. "I don't fuckin' know. Do I look like a doctor to you?"

"I just … I just …" The teenager looked back to the guard and shook his head. "Help him, _please._"

"Shut up."

"Please?"

"I said to _shut-up_!"

Tim flinched slightly and didn't speak again to the man. He took a seat as close to Dick as the bars could get him and stared at his older brother. They had cut his hair short, stealing part of his identity. It was matted to his head, wet with sweat, and probably some blood. Forcing his arm through the bar, Tim tried to touch his friend, but couldn't manage, so he pulled back. "Sunny days, keeping the clouds away, I think we're coming to a clearing in a brighter day." He quoted the lyrics from one of Dick's many songs that his brother had downloaded on his iPod when he had 'borrowed' it.

Dick was always making Tim mad like that.

Acting like an idiot, taking things without asking, borrowing stuff and never giving it back. It wasn't like Bruce wouldn't buy him stuff, Dick just … never asked Bruce for anything. He just figured Tim was easier, and didn't loose as much dignity by swiping it off his little brother.

Why Dick and Bruce fought so much – he didn't know. It was just the way things were. Kind of like how Dad was always in a bad mood, it was just the way the wheels turned. It might not be right, but it _was_. There was a small amount of comfort in the regularity, so long as things didn't get too out of hand. A heated debate that ended up with Dick yelling and cursing at his mentor always made Tim jumpy and nervous. Bruce would be in a horrible mood on those days, and if there was one thing worse than having to deal with a foul-mood Dick, it was living and working with an angry Bruce Wayne.

On those days Tim would make a point to stay in his room. The saying _out of sight, out of mind _always proved quite true on such days. Though, Alfred always told the teenager that the house was as much his at it was Bruce's, and that the billionaire had no right to be mean just 'cause he was upset – but Tim knew better.

It wasn't like Bruce was _awful_. He had only back-handed Tim that one time, and that was it. And well, honestly Tim didn't blame him for that. He figured he'd be pretty pissed if someone had destroyed something that important to him too.

It was just that … Bruce was the Batman before anything, and living with that was scary at times. It didn't take a sharp word, it just took the sideways glance, or the cold shoulder, and Tim felt awful.

Though, it was so clear that Bruce loved Dick … why they didn't get along was beyond the boy, and he didn't dig up buried secrets, he knew better than that.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Tim rested his head on his shoulder and the wall, and then closed his eyes. He wouldn't sleep - no, he'd make sure Bruce and Dick were going to be ok before he did that. It was his responsibility now, he was no pansy. He could take the hits they gave him. He could be their punching bag.

Yes, the idea that he might die here was always over his head, and it scared him. But no, he wasn't going to cry anymore. This was his life, and not nobody was going to make him do anything he didn't want to do. No matter how hard they hit, no matter what they did.

_We're getting out of here. Period.

* * *

_

Dick awoke with a moan, doing his best not to whimper at the present situation. The floor he lay on was and stiff, hardly the bed he had hoped for, but oh well. Oh shittin' well. Opening his eyes he saw the figure of his mentor staring at him with great interest. "Bruce?"

"He's awake!" It was Tim's voice, and the kid sounds happy.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked as he reached out towards the young man only to pull his hand back, afraid to touch him. "Are you thirsty?"

Nodding hurt, but he nodded anyway. It wasn't like he was about ready to show how much pain he was in. "Water would be good, just let me -." _One, two, three, four, pause, two, three, four. _The pain was so immense, moving was like ripping off a band-aid again and again, but he moved anyway.

Bruce moved fast then, helping him to lean against the wall. "You shouldn't move. It'll just open up all the … all the sores."

_The sores, ah, these sores. _Dick stared at his stomach, his chest – it was all cut up – small section of skin having been cut from his body. His back was probably in the same condition, seeing how bad it felt back there. He breathed hard as Bruce handed him the gallon of water with a great deal of gentleness.

"What happened? Why are you here?" Bruce snapped, glaring at the young man.

The gypsy knew better than to answer out of anger. Bruce was just a dumbass. He drank his fill of water slowly, happy for the small pleasure. Once he was done he placed it on the floor and looked at his mentor, then towards Tim. "They came to the house, took me, I just hope that Alfred and Barbara are alright."

"Why would you say that?" Tim asked in a worried voice.

"'Cause I don't know if they took them too. I just – they just knocked me out and next thing I knew I was in a dark room. It's some serious shit, huh? These guys are good." He flexed his fingers a little, watching them with no interest. "You look pretty beaten up there, Timmy-boy, how'd that happen?"

A shrug, as if it were no big deal. "They're just bitches is all, and forget me – I think you got it worse than any of us. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got my skin peeled off with a fuckin' razor." He smiled at his brother and made a sort of laughing noise in the back of his throat. "How do you feel?"

"Like my dad got drunk, the stupid bastard." Tim laughed then, and Dick smiled along with him. It was an awkward thing to say, but it was said – and there was nothing to do but make the best of it.

Bruce had retreated to a corner, scowling like he were upset – and he was, just not at the boys. Tim and Dick meshed together like … like real brothers. It was good to see, usually, but at the moment it just made the Dark Knight more nervous. They had both his sons, what next? They'd probably get Barbara and then Alfred – and then what?

Then what indeed.

_You get out before there is a 'then what', that's what. _Bruce got to his feet, and stared into the hall for the millionth and one time, and he saw everything – but it didn't do him any good. Not until someone got messy, and made a mistake. He just needed that opening.

Give him that opening.

_To be continued …_

**RobinIV: **LOL, it's cool if you don't review right away. Sometimes I think I review and discover I didn't I hate when that happens. I feel like such a bad reader, gah! Haha. Yeah, the all-nighter was fun, I remember it still. I had a test the next day. Not cool, I got a D. Hmm, don't tell my parents and we'll be good. ;-)

**Alittlesummerwine: **I love your name, first off – it reminds me of that song: "Perfect song on the radio, sing along 'cause it's one we know. It's a smile, it's a kiss, it's a sip of wine, its summer time." I love Kenny Chesney, but that's probably not where you got your name, it just reminds me, lol. I'm glad to hear I'm not the oldest person here, lol, sometimes I think I am and feel rather foolish. Batman's just too cool for me to stay away, and in my opinion is dark enough for the elders, lol. ;-) I'm glad you think the story is ok so far, sometimes I feel like it's rather hopeless, but onward I go.

**Leahblueeyes: **I'll get it finished – otherwise I'll just have this thing haunting me forever. I'll be like: _Why_! I'm glad you're still hanging on, lol, you've been hanging on for a few years, I totally appreciate that, just so you know. Thanks for always reviewing, girl!

**Pookie Power 2005: **Hey Sarah – of course I remember you. I actually was wondering if you got the last chapter I sent? I think I sent it a few weeks ago. I did want to ask you some questions about the fanfiction! I'm guess here is a cool place to do so. You can E-mail me your answer if you want. XD Pretty much, I'm just wondering what the ending of the fanfiction is going to be? Do you have anything in mind, or do you want me to just create something? I know I want Katie to be happy, lol, but I just was wondering what it would take to get there. If you wrote anymore, send it to me. I need to go check your fanfictions too. My computer was broken for _two weeks_! Two weeks! It was awful. I had to get on during school and steal my brother's laptop at times. Talk to you soon!

**Lpgoanfanatic: **Thanks! I'm glad you liked it, bleh, I'm just sorry I take so freakin' long. I try to keep up with it, but it's tough stuff at times. I just … am not in the mood. I should try to tell my math teacher that or something. "I didn't do my math homework 'cause I wasn't in the mood." He'd have my head! LOL, thanks for the review!

**Jester Joker: **You make me smile, lol. Thank you so much for the kind words, and not killing me 'cause I took so long. It was close to a year since the last update, bleh, I'm evil like that. I'm actually lazy like that. Thanks for the words, they really did make me smile – even reading it for the second and third time. XD Thanks again!

**Caerula: **It seems like forever since I've talked with you, or well, conversed over fanfictions with you, lol. Yeah, girls need to eat cake, and chocolate. I just got a huge thing of candy in the mail from my church and … it's gone. True story, lolirl. Anyhow, yes – more Dick and Tim indeed, which reminds me of In My Arms Again, gosh, I need to finish that fanfiction! Talk to you later!

**Fae Child19: **I'm not good at stories with sad endings, I would just get too depressed. I'm not saying I can't do it – I actually just killed a character in one of my stories, I'm just no good at doing it. I get too sad. So I hope that things work out for everyone too, lol. Yeah, it would suck to be Tim right now. It'd suck bad.

**Cycloptic** **NightBat: **I loved the fish thing too, in fact – I made it into a poem for a class, lolirl. I had to write a freakin' 10 page poetry portfolio. I'm so sick of poetry, you have no idea. I don't even like writing it, but I enjoy short stories, so yeah … I took the class. Let's just say I'm glad it's over with! Never again will I write a poem, if I can avoid it. XD

**Candelblaise: **Ahh! Why does it seem like I haven't talked to you and another person in forever? My constant friends and reviewers always make me so happy, lol. I feel awful when I don't update 'cause of you guys! I'll have you know that. So you are the cause of much of my stress and pain, lol. It's a good thing. I'm just glad you review. Not much Tim angst in this chappie, but it'll come – it always comes. (Doom, doom, doom). Thanks for the words, lol, I'll be sure to keep the chappies coming.

**Chocogirl: **Thanks! I'm glad you like it, it's hard to write at times, but I keep at it – or pretend to, lol. Thanks for the kind words, and next time I take too long just send me a mean hateful message. I swear I won't get mad at you, I'll just be like: Oh yeah! LOL. Thanks so much.

**Trecebo: **You left the best review of this fanfiction, I cannot tell a lie. I felt like I was reading poetry or something, plus it made me laugh. Thanks for that, lolirl. It really did make me laugh. Hedda sucks, and I hate him too. We'll have to make sure he gets his or something …let's hope he does. He better! Angst would be good, though it didn't do much in this chappie, maybe the next, eh? Thanks for the review, it rocked hard!

**Trunksblue: **Hey, SONny-boy, lolirl, sorry, I updated, SON. Wow, anyone who reads our comments probably thinks we're mental, haha. I laugh at such dumb things, oh well. I took your advice, well, I read your advice and it gave me this idea. So the credit goes to you. Dick is a way to torture Bruce more, and well… I'm nice enough to Bruce to allow him to come and cause more pain. Gosh, I suck – but I blame you. If anyone is mad that Dick is there, I point all fingers your way. I'll be like: _She told me too. _XD I hope college is going good, for me it's simply going, that's all we'll say. Hmm. Thanks! Talk to you later.


	12. Poison

"I'm standing at a mirror and I don't know who I'm looking at. This part I play that I didn't write, have I gone too far to come back? I'm empty as a desert well, but I built the walls of this mirrored cell. It was a spiraled game of show and tell and you beat me every time. See me naked, this tired facade is wearin' thin yeah, it's wearin' thin."

_Song and Dance _**The Normals**

_**Ghosts in the Closet:**_

**By: The BatThing**

**Chapter Twelve: **Poison

Bruce awoke with a headache and a bad feeling. He forced himself up slowly – quietly, seeing that the guard had given into sleep. Well, that was all fine and good, considering that the last man had died because of such a thing. The weary billionaire got to his feet and walked over to the bars, staring at the guard and considering his options. Then, with a rough voice from sleep, he spoke. "Hey."

The guard's head jerked up and his eyes were wide – scared, and with good reason. He had seen what had happened to the last guy. The moment he saw Bruce he scowled, trying to look tough. "What do you want?"

"I just don't want another person to die for stupid reasons."

Nothing was said in reply, probably the proof that the guard was thankful. He got to his feet and started to walk up and down the hall, forcing his brain to start working and his body to stop being so tired. It probably wasn't going to do much good, considering he hadn't slept in so long, but he tried.

Bruce didn't watch, instead he turned to Dick and bent down beside the young man – looking at the cuts and wounds covering his body. It wasn't a pretty sight, but he had seen worse. Sigmund Hedda was making a very strong point though, and Bruce hated him all the more. Probably part of the point.

The man lifted his head, glancing over into the other cell and finding Tim asleep on the floor, looking ironically comfortable.

"Did you know the other guard?" Bruce questioned, turning his head and looking at the man pacing back and forth. "Or not at all?"

"Shut up."

Getting to his feet, Bruce slowly approached the bars – giving the area a casual glance – in hopes to spot a camera or something. He figured it could be anywhere. "Did he die?"

"_Shut_. _Up_."

A noise came from down the hall, causing the guard to freeze and Bruce's heart to skip a beat or two. There was no doubt that someone was coming, the only question was why. No matter the reason, it couldn't be good. Thus far when anyone came someone ended up hurt or dead. The two men waited in silence as the approaching sounds got closer.

It was Karl and a guard, nothing like the one positioned to watch over Bruce. This one was distant, unaware almost. He didn't look into any of their eyes, and as Karl started to speak, he did nothing.

"Guests have arrived for tonight."

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the comment. "And what is tonight?"

"The auction." Karl took a step closer to the prison, not smiling, not smirking – looking distant almost. "I think you may recall hearing Sigmund talking about the matter?"

"Dare I ask who is here?" Bruce knew exactly what he was talking about, and he hoped like anything Tim was still asleep … not that it would really matter. He would have to tell the boy sooner or later, so why hope that he couldn't hear? The man didn't know, but the idea of the teenager hearing this conversation didn't make him happy. Time was wasting away, and he had promised to save the boy – he _had _to save him. Save Tim and Dick before anything bad could happen … anything worse could happen.

"The usual group you hang around with." There was a pause, and Karl sighed loudly – as if ready to repent for something he had done – _was_ doing. "The Joker is amongst them."

Bruce's face must have given something away, because Karl seemed to wince at the sight.

"If you would like, I – I could give you some poison for him."

And the Dark Knight's heart about stopped. What a suggestion! He swallowed any signs of worry or anxiousness he might be showing and gave a stern glare. "I don't think we'll be needing it."

Karl nodded, but held out a small bottle anyway, lowering his head and looking away.

Bruce found himself accepting it, against all that was in him, he took it. Slipping it into his pocket he nodded sharply. "You're going to get in trouble with Hedda – aren't you? If he finds out that you've been down here – and what you have said."

"I'll deal with him if it comes to that." The man answered, turning away, motioning for the dazed guard to follow him.

Turning around, the billionaire found both Dick and Tim as they had been – appearing to be still asleep. Good. He didn't want anyone to know what he had just done. It was too awful for even him to believe. But he could feel it, his hand passing it slightly, the bottle in his pocket. Why had he accepted it? Why hadn't he just refused? Why hadn't he gotten them out of this place yet?!

* * *

_How am I supposed to tell him something like this? _Bruce had been trying for the last two hours just about anything he could to get out of this cage. Nothing was working – nothing at _all_. It seemed impossible that he would ever get them out.

No.

He _had _to get them out.

The guard seemed to sympathize with their situation. He never got mean when Bruce kept trying dumb things, or asking to be let out for different reasons. Though, he also kept his distance.

_You're the Batman – you have to think of something. You have to think, that's the first rule._

Though, as the hours wore down it seemed like he should at least tell Timothy.

_But that's just the same as giving up._

The poison in his pocket was a constant reminder just how weak he truly was. The man couldn't stand the thought of him having it with him, but he did. It was a sign of defeat. And he hated it.

"They seem to be sitting rather tight – don't they?" Dick questioned as he watched Bruce staring at the lock. "I mean, we haven't had anything happen all day … don't they usually do something?"

Tim laughed a little at the words. "They like to keep us guessing I think. Though, you know what would be great?"

"Getting free."

"Exactly."

The two smirked at each other for a moment, and then fell silent for a few minutes. Bruce had been their entertainment that morning – the way he was acting kept them interested. It also got them worried, though neither cared to admit it.

"They've got cameras in here, right." Dick was glancing around the room. "They have to have cameras if they're good enough to hold us here like this. They can't be idiots."

"They have something and then some. We figure that they can hear whatever we're saying … that, or read lips rather well." The teenager in the other cell found this funny and gave a little laugh, and then fell silent – as if in deep thought. He lifted his head and looked at Bruce and Dick and then frowned.

"You alright?"

"Just thinking about something."

"About what?" Dick winced as he moved the wrong way – causing one of his cuts to slice slightly. "Anything you care to share?"

Tim shook his head. "I guess not, I was just thinking about … stuff, and realized I had nothing to say."

At this the gypsy laughed. "Well, alright – whatever."

"_Dick_." Bruce said, turning around and facing the boy. His face was rather tight, and his lips pressed tightly together. "Hoe gaat 't?"

There was a long pause and then a frown. "Niet zo goed?" The young man looked confused as he looked between Bruce and Tim.

"Zou je Nederlands willen spreken?"

"Umm … what?" Dick was trying to think, clearly, he made a face of frustration. "lang- um - langzaam aan."

Bruce frowned. "Roman?"

"Da."

"Mai bun?"

Dick nodded and Bruce and he began to speak to each other rapidly in Romanian, though there were moments where either party was clearly confused or frustrated – mostly Dick. Tim watched in silence as they two conversed, and the guard didn't even _do anything_. He just sat, as if between himself on the matter. He let them speak for about a minute before standing up.

"Hey! Speak English or I'm going to have to make you stop." His voice was quiet. Clearly he wanted nothing better than to leave.

Dick looked at Bruce who nodded and then turned to Tim. "Bet you wish you knew your languages better, huh?"

"What was that – German?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Looks like you could refresh your Dutch skills." Bruce grumbled.

"Who actually can speak Dutch?" The young gypsy snapped in reply. "_Nobody_."

The unmasked Dark Knight gave a small grin and then turned to the guard. "I need to speak to Karl if you could … _please_."

There was a nod, hesitant, but it came, and the guard phoned for Karl. It took about ten minutes before the man made his way downstairs, and he looked confused at being there. The guard was there, at his side – same as before. "What do you need?"

Bruce nodded. "I have a request, if I might."

"That depends. I was told you and your young friend were conversing in a foriegn language?" Karl said, as if asking. "Perhaps if you could tell me what that is all about I might be more willing to relax your situation."

"I was simply telling him what you told me this morning, I – I didn't want Tim to hear." Bruce flinched, wishing like anything he didn't have to say that, but he said it. "And that's what I was hoping you might help us with."

"Not want me to know?" The teenager looked confused, turning to Dick who said nothing.

"I was hoping you might bring him in here with us – considering. Just so we can … you know." The billionaire shut his mouth once he was done, eyes searching Karl, waiting for an answer.

The man listening slowly nodded. "You have a deal, Mr. Wayne, but if you try anything I'm afraid I'll simply have to shot your young friend there." Karl took a gun from the guard and motioned it towards Dick. "Understand?"

"I do."

"Then please, Mr. Optivar … move Timothy with his friends." Karl stepped away as Bruce's guard got up and nodded, taking out something from his pocket and typing in a code. Tim's door opened and the boy made no motion to get out at first, simply shocked. "Timothy – if you would, we haven't got all day – and I just might reconsider my offer."

Tim got up and moved into the hall, looking at Bruce and Dick, clearly at a loss for words or action. When the other cell door was opened he walked in, and stood in silence as it shut without a sound. Smooth and silent.

Bruce nodded to Karl as the man moved away – leaving with his bodyguard, or whatever it was. "Thank you."

"Small favors, Mr. Wayne." And he was gone.

"What is going on, Bruce?" Tim asked, looking confused and a bit pale. "What's going to happen to me?"

"Nothing." Dick assured. "You know Bruce'll figure something out, he'll save us. We'll all work and get us out of here before anything happens."

The teenager's head snapped towards his brother. His voice shook as he spoke. "I've heard that before, and oddly – we're still here, aren't we? If I'm going to die soon, I want to know. … Am I in trouble?"

Bruce slowly nodded. "Tonight they plan to sell you off, Tim. It doesn't look good at the moment, but I'm not giving up … not till I get us all home."

"If you're not giving up then why did you want me in here?" The boy growled, slumping onto the ground. "You want me in here to say goodbye – well, that's fine."

"Tim, don't give up like that – we all just need to think." Dick groaned as he tried to move. Apparently it was too much trouble, because he didn't try it again. "And don't forget, Barbara and Alfred are working hard to find us … along with Commissioner Gordon and Bullock and Montoya."

"Just like you were?!" Tim growled. "You were trying to save us, so tell us – how close did you get to figuring anything out? Huh? From what I've gathered you didn't know anything. Not a thing!"

"We need to consider our options." Bruce said finally.

A long silence and Tim started to poke at the floor, and then he lifted his hand, covering his eyes. "Could you just do me a favor, Bruce?"

The billionaire took in a deep breath, not liking what was happening – not enjoying the reaction. He had been hoping for something a little more … hopeful. "A favor?"

"Yeah." Tim's head snapped up, he glared at the man with anger. "A _favor_. I hate to ask, but I gotta'. Just tell me this … why did you even bother with me?!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean let's face the facts, you have Dick." Tim smashed a fist on the floor, shaking his head and lowering it – going a little red. "I just don't see why the fuck you had to pretend like I was … forget it."

The man moved towards the boy. "Tim, what kind of question is that? You -."

The boy moved away the instant Bruce came within a foot of him. He shook his head at the man. "Forget it. I'm just a little fucked and I don't much care for it. So, if you both could just give me some time to get in tune with that fact, like you both clearly are, then maybe we can talk."

Dick looked pained. "Tim, you know that -."

"Shut up Dick." Tim growled. "I don't want to hear it right now. _Please _just let me think, let me be alone."

The billionaire ignored the request, bending on his knees and pulling the bottle out of his pocket. "We need to consider what we can do right now, Tim, so … so if you could just listen, I don't know how much time we have."

Tim looked up. "What is that?"

"I don't want you to be in a situation that will break you." Bruce slowly said, glancing at Dick but not able to meet his eyes. "Karl gave me this, and while I'd rather die then … then … I don't know what to do, Timothy."

The boy chocked a little. "Wha-what is that?"

"It will save you from being hurt." The billionaire frowned. "And it's not my choice to make, it's yours."

Tim was silent at first, trying his best to glare, but then started to gag. Bruce felt his stomach flip flop, he wanted to back down, but he couldn't. He had to do this, it was the only way. The boy seemed to gain control, but when he looked up there were tears in his eyes. "My dad once said I had the habit of riding a horse into the ground."

Bruce said nothing.

"And I'm going to do that." The boy whimpered, taking his arms across his eyes. "I'm not going to give up yet, even if – if you do."

"We're not giving up, Tim." Dick whispered. "We'll never give up."

"Killing me is giving up!" The boy about screamed. He started to shake his head violently, shivering at the thought. "And I'm not going to do it … thanks. And … and don't blame yourself for what happens to me."

The billionaire couldn't look at anyone right now.

"I know you might try to … but don't. I know I might say dumb things, but I don't mean them. I'm just … a little scared. But I won't cry." Tim said through the tears. "I know I am right now but – I won't once I stop. I swear I wo-won't cry." And he started to sob.

_To be continued …_


	13. The Difference Between

**Author's Note: **Is it bad that I was listening to a Barbie song while writing this chapter? It was inspiring – don't judge, don't judge, haha! No, you can make fun of me, just keep in mind I'm a girl, so it's totally understandable. I have an excuse. ;-) Sorry this took forever and a day to update. I was really stuck on this story, and can't safely say that I'm unstuck, but I can say I'm constantly trying. Once a month I take a stab at writing a new chapter, but usually I fail. Thanks to everyone for reviewing! Sara, Jester Joker, Candleblaise, Caerula, Robin IV, E. Nagrom, Trunksblue, FaeChild19, lpgohanfanatic, and Chikacherrycola! Thank you SO much!

"But if I must go, then things I trust will be better off without me. But I don't want to know, 'cause life is better off a mystery. So keep on coming, these lines on the road. Keep me responsible be it a light or a heavy load."

Faith My Eyes** Caedmon's Call**

_**Ghosts in the Closets**_

**By: The BatThing**

**Chapter Thirteen: **The Difference between Mother's and Father's

"_Bruce?_"

Bruce Wayne jerked to a start at the mention of his name – had he _really_ fallen asleep? Without another thought, he opened his eyes to see who it was calling him in a familiar tone.

"_Bruce_? _What are you doing, sweetie?_"

The billionaire gave his head a small shake at the sight on an empty cell. What was this? A trick? A trap? He heard his name in _her_ voice. Bruce knew perfectly well that _she_ was talking to him, but at the same time he understood it wasn't possible. "What do you want with me now?" He growled, getting up and standing his ground.

"_You're asleep, baby – you've had it hard for a long time, don't you think?"_

"Stop it!" The man hissed, turning in circles. Where did Tim and Dick go? Where was everyone? The guard was even missing from his usual spot. "Where did you take them?"

There was a considerable pause, and then the voice came again. It sounded so like her. So, so, _so_ like her. "_You're dreaming, Bruce. You know we've been watching, you know we've been watching ever since that night."_

"Everybody knows about that night – everybody knows about _my parents_. I know that whoever this is – I know …" His voice trailed off and he shook his head. If he knew, then why did his gut tell him it was her? Why did his body feel so light? Why did he feel so safe? "Are Dick and Tim ok?"

"_Yes. They're such wonderful children, Bruce. And Richard, I could tell from the minute he came to stay that he would heal you. And he did. You love him very much._"

Bruce slowly sat back down, feeling calm in the atmosphere. If he was dreaming, then why was it everything seemed so clear? The unmasked Dark Knight gave it little thought, her words drew him in. "He's a good kid … they both are."

"_I'm proud of them, proud of you, Bruce, baby." _

"…If you're a dream, and if you're real, then why now?" Bruce questioned. His voice weak as he spoke, weak like a child's. "Why did you wait so long to come to me? I needed you then." The comfort he was feeling seemed to increase, and his body started to feel warm, like a blanket was being wrapped around him. And he could smell her.

"_You need me now. You need me now."_

"I need you always."

"_You only think you need me, Bruce. But I know that you're strong, and that you can carry on without us. Come now, come and come."_

What did that mean? Come where? The man lifted his head, leaning it back and closing his eyes tightly. "I'm not strong; I'm not strong or good, I'm nothing good. I'm not like _he_ was. I'll never be like _he_ was."

Her answer was filled with assurance, the words he longed to hear for so long, for so many years. The words he had thought impossible. "_You are him_. _You're his child._"

"Tim might die, I can't let him die, but – but it seems hopeless. It seems so hopeless." The man felt his throat go dry at the very idea of the situation he was in. "Save me, save them – _please_. Don't let them hurt. Don't let them hurt."

There was no answer.

"Don't let them hurt anymore, don't let me fail them."

"_You have a plan." _She said.

"It's no plan." He answered.

"_I know you that you will do everything in your power to save them, and I know that you'd die for them. That's all you need, baby. That's all you need."_

The man bowed his head at her words, disagreeing completely. "Unless they're saved, it won't mean a thing. I can die in an attempt to save them, but they can still be hurt. What good am I if I can't even save them? I couldn't save _you_, and now I can't save _them_. I can't do it, I know I can't. They'll be taken from me, they'll join you, and I'll be left behind. I'll be left behind in this halfway Hell. Just like always, just like now."

"_You have a plan_."

Bruce shook his head, refusing to repeat his words, refusing to dwell on the pointless. He felt so dark, so endless, so everlasting. He felt like a man that had lived too long, a man that was long past due to fade out of existence. "Can't I join you?"

"_You have my grandsons to save."_

"Please, can't you help them – help me help them?"

"_You have my grandsons to save."_

"I KNOW!"

"_Then stop thinking and save them_."

Bruce shook his head, drawing his arms up, his hands clutching his head at her words. "I can't just save them without a plan! I _need_ to think, I need to think of a way to save them. They say my superpower is my mind – but what good is it now? What good is my human mind now? I don't have inhuman strength; I don't have the ability to save _anyone_. Not them, not you."

"_Stop thinking, Bruce_."

"I can't."

"_Bruce_."

"I CAN'T!"

"BRUCE!"

The man felt as if the blanket were being lifted, and the warmth faded rapidly, the security that had been slowly diminishing was no more. He was left with the feeling of cold stone. "You left me."

"What?" It was Dick's voice. The gypsy boy was looking down at the man with a confused expression. He was unsure what to make of the strange comment. "You were dreaming – I think."

Bruce opened his eyes and sat up. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"You haven't slept well in a long time." Dick slowly responded. "I figured you could rest for half an hour and then I'd -."

"You should have woken me the _moment_ you noticed I was asleep." Bruce barked, glaring around the cell. He felt foolish for having fallen asleep at a time like this. Tim was about to be taken away, and he had fallen asleep. It just went to prove how weak he was.

Dick apparently took the tone of Bruce's voice to heart, backing off and putting up his usual front when his guardian became thoughtless. He had years of practice with the man, he knew how to protect himself. "Sorry, it won't happen again, _Bruce_."

Ignoring the fact that Dick was now upset with him, Bruce turned to find Tim. The teenager was resting on the ground – sleeping oddly enough. How was it that they had fallen asleep at a time like this? "How long has he been asleep?"

Shrugging, Dick looked away from Bruce. "Only twenty minutes or so, what's it matter? I'm happy he can sleep, it's good."

"Anything to keep him from crying."

"Bruce, you're a bastard." Dick snapped, finally having had his fill of thoughtless words. "You're a bastard in every meaning of the word."

"I didn't mean it like it sounded." The man replied, realizing that he had sounded a bit cruel. He simply meant that he was happy that Tim wasn't able to worry so much. It wasn't that he thought Tim did nothing but cry. "That came out wrong."

"_Apparently_." Dick said with a bit of sarcasm. He took in a deep breath. "What did you dream about?"

"_What_?"

The young man shrugged his shoulders once again, giving a weak smile at the man he considered his father. "You were talking a lot in your dream, saying things – about how you were useless or something, how you couldn't do it. I guess I shouldn't even ask _what_ you were dreaming about, you know? I mean, what would anyone dream about in a place like this?"

Bruce kept quiet, listening to what Dick was saying.

"I had a dream the other night." He continued, slowly spacing into his own world, forgetting where he was, and who he was talking to. It wasn't normal for him to tell random things to Bruce, not things as simple as dreams. "It was you, me, Alfred, Tim, and Barbara, right? We lived at the Manor together, but it was surrounded by cornfields. Well, the house was attacked, right? So you made Tim and I get out and hide in the corn. I don't know why, but Barbara wouldn't go, she said she had to stay behind. I mean, hell, she's a girl – she _should_ go. Anyhow, Tim and I went into these cornfields and it was the shit, man – real awesome to see, like another world."

The billionaire slowly turned to look at the twenty-four year old talking.

"And Tim and I – we forgot everything. Had this house that was only one room big, with a stone oven, and herbs and shit hanging from the ceiling. There was this girl there, real flirty – and she was hot too. And she tried to kiss me, nothing too odd, but for some reason I wouldn't let her. And I think I figured out why."

"Why?"

Dick jerked up his head, eyes wide at the realization Bruce had been listening. "Oh, I dunno. You know … dunno."

"You said you figured out why – so why?"

The young gypsy gave a weak and almost shy smile, unsure what Bruce would do to him. "Barbara."

Bruce simply nodded.

"I think I love her, the real deal."

The billionaire looked at Dick for a few seconds, and then nodded. "How old are you?"

"What's that supposed to mean! You don't know how old I am?!"

"You're twenty four – it's just strange I suppose." Bruce shrugged, looking out into the hall once more, as if something might have appeared there of interest. "You're too young to be in love, I think."

Dick glared, not liking that answer. "I'm twenty four, Bruce. I think I'm old enough to fall in love without you telling me that I can or can't. Damn, why are you _always_ like this? I try and talk normal with you and all that happens is you get all shitty with me."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just mean … I just forget, I guess." The man looked over at Dick, meeting his eyes and giving a sad and distant smile. "You're supposed to be eight years old, and begging me to take off work so I could teach you how to play football like the other kids."

"…You remember that?"

"Sure." Bruce said.

"You didn't take off work to teach me." Dick slowly answered. "I had to learn from Charlie Hannon's dad."

The billionaire slowly nodded. "Yeah, I know, I was jealous of him."

A long pause and Dick wasn't sure how to feel. "I was the weird gypsy kid at school who didn't know how to play sports. I had to learn somehow, and if you weren't going to teach me, then I had to learn somehow."

"Yeah."

"...You said football was dumb and pointless. You said I shouldn't waste my time with it." Dick remembered perfectly that situation, like so many others after it. Bruce had never been one to be kind and understanding. "You were teaching me how to hit for the kill, advanced chemistry, and mechanics, but when it came to something like football – something so simple – you wouldn't do it."

Bruce didn't answer, looking into an empty space, his eyes seeing past images as he recalled different events. "Have any idea what time it is?"

Dick gave a scoff. "No." He turned away, slinking to the ground beside Tim as he started to feel some self-pity. Bruce had been showing the slightest bit of emotion, but what good did that do? It didn't change anything. _Why does it matter, Grayson? Why the hell does it matter what Bruce thinks about you, or feels about you? You're twenty-four, it shouldn't matter. _Dick stared at his hands for a moment and then put them to his face.

"You know …"

Jerking his head up at Bruce's voice, Dick quirked an eyebrow. He was surprised to find his guardian actually a bit red in the face, as if embarrassed or awkward.

"You know I had taken off work for the next day to teach you. I only said that football was pointless because I was upset and jealous that someone else got to teach you." He was glaring as he spoke, as if trying to keep tough. "I didn't mean to sound like I thought you were wrong to learn it."

Dick gave a small laugh, a happy laugh despite the current surroundings. He titled his head and shrugged at Bruce's revelation. The young man didn't say anything, simply smiled, but it was good enough. After all, what could he say to something like that? Perhaps he could say "thank you."

Bruce just shrugged, blushing a bit more, but there was nothing to be ashamed of.

_To be continued …_


	14. Getting Free

**Authors Note: **Short, sorry! I lost this chapter and had to rewrite it, so I might have made it shorter … a lot shorter, due to my lack of an attention span.

"He's my friend... even if it means facing someone like Orochimaru. If my arms get ripped off, I'll just kick him to death. If my legs get ripped off, I'll just bite him to death. If my head gets ripped off, I'll just stare him to death, and if my eyes get ripped out I'll just curse him to death. Even if it means getting torn into pieces, I'm going to take him back from Orochimaruo no matter what!"

-_Naruto_-

_**Ghosts in the Closets**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Fourteen:** Getting Free

Tim awoke with a start, jerking his head up and giving a quick, sharp gasp at the surprise of being asleep. The top of his hand was wet, as was his mouth, and the boy turned a bit red, realizing he had been drooling. He wiped off his mouth and turned around casually, seeing Bruce staring at him in silence. "…Hey."

"Hey." Bruce didn't appear any different then usual. He sat as if everything were like it should be, like he was still the one in control of his life. His arms crossed and his head resting against the wall. "Sleep well?"

"Sure, I guess, I dunno." Tim looked around, and then gave a start, seeing Dick lying down, apparently sleeping. "He's asleep?"

"He's sick."

"… Sick?" Tim didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. The teenager slowly got to his feet and walked towards Bruce, coming to a stop in front of him. He felt awkward, looking down at his mentor. He didn't feel so small anymore. "What's he sick with?"

Bruce shook his head, looking up at Tim and then turning to look at Dick. "He's been through a lot, and this place isn't exactly great for hygiene. It's just a fever, probably from infection, lack of water, and loss of blood."

Tim was quiet, looking at his older brother without saying a word.

"Don't worry about me." Dick called out, rolling to his back and turning his head to look at the two. He gave a stupid smile, treating the situation with an oblivious attitude. "This is what we call a spoiled rich kid living in a poor person's World."

"You feel ok, Dick?" Tim questioned, dropping to the floor and crawling towards the gypsy.

"I just really have this craving for – for the chocolate Alfred use to make me." He admitted with a crooked smile. He gave a small laugh, and then took in a deep and shaking breath. "I had this Superman cup, and it was the bomb back in the day. Al would always make some awesome shit chocolate milk that was more chocolate then milk. That sounds really good right now."

Tim smiled down at Dick, giving a partial laugh himself at the randomness evolved. "Do you have no respect? A Superman cup in Batman's house? You should have been banished then and there."

"Hey, I had a Batman cup too! But chocolate milk went with the Superman cup." Dick argued, he put a hand to his head and groaned a bit. "The Batman cup was foul, man. I think Alfred was trying to instill some early lesson. He _always_ put white milk in the Batman cup. He was trying to tell me something."

Bruce didn't say anything, just gave Dick a look.

"I should have listened. White milk might be more healthy then chocolate syrup milk, but it tasted like throw-up. Ugh, every morning, white milk, vitamins, and breakfast. He still do that?"

Tim smiled, looking at Bruce, though didn't expect any reaction. The man simply looked down, as if embarrassed. Though, who could tell with the Batman? It was all assumptions. "No, I don't get fun cups, and I don't get forced to drink milk or eat vitamins."

"What's up with that shit, Bruce?!" Dick demanded. There was sweat on his forehead as he spoke, and his body trembled. "I leave and you don't make Tim eat vitamins or drink vomit-milk?"

Silence.

"He's always liked me more." Dick told Tim with a serious nod.

Tim smiled. "You look cold. You cold?"

"I cold. You cold?"

"Stop joking around, Dick, I'm _serious_."

Dick nodded, smiling despite himself. "I'm just sick, Timmy-boy, don't worry about me. It's not like it's something huge, I'll live. I'm just not use to being in so much discomfort. I come from a long line of … well, no I don't, but Bruce comes from a long line of rich people who are use to the finer things in life. This sort of thing doesn't suit me."

Tim quirked an eyebrow. "Sure, and spending long nights fighting bad guys, getting the shit kicked outta' you, and getting no thanks suits?"

"A bit more, I guess." He yawned and waved his hand in front of his mouth, a bad attempt to cover. "Wow, excuse me, I'm more tired then I think sometimes. Uh, this sucks." He gave a small groan of pain, clutching his stomach and sitting up rather suddenly.

"Uh, you ok? You aren't going to throw up or anything – are you?" Tim backed away, seeing the expression on his older brother's face. Without waiting for any warning, he jumped back, gaining space between Dick and him.

Dick turned away, and started gagging, and doing what he could to hold onto some pride by keeping his back to the two.

"Shit, Bruce – aren't they going to do anything about this?" Tim turned to his guardian, expecting some sort of answer. He had never been good around sick people. It wasn't something he had much experience with. Not to mention he almost never got sick, and when he did – well, he had the tendency to be a baby about the whole ordeal.

"It's the vomit milk." Dick joked, still keeping his back to the two. "Happens every time I think of the stuff. Alfred overkilled the white milk."

"…" Tim looked at Bruce, expecting the man to do something. But nothing doing, the billionaire sat against the wall, looking in Dick's direction, and not offering any sort of help. "_Bruce_."

At this Bruce looked at Tim, and nodded. "He's _fine_, Tim, don't worry about it. A little fever never killed anyone."

"Yet!" Dick joked, starting to gag again.

Tim winced at the sound, not enjoying it at all. He turned his head away, and looked at the wall. He wasn't going to be a baby about this, but he _couldn't_ just sit there and watch. It was … too weird. After a few moments, Dick stopped, and started to laugh a bit, forcing Tim to turn back around and look at him.

Dick was wiping at his eyes, smiling through. "Don't anyone come over _here_. It's hard to believe I was able to throw anything up, considering they feed me – like – nothing."

The guard suddenly got to his feet, causing the three behind bars to turn their attention in his direction. "What -." Tim stopped, hearing footsteps approaching down the hall. "Oh, shit."

Bruce finally got to his feet, not looking at either of the boys, but approaching the bars without any hesitation. He watched as Karl came into view, surrounded by three guards looking as if they were in a daydream. Karl saw Tim and made a face at the boy, as if surprised to find him there. "I see you don't care as much as I thought you did." He told Bruce.

The Dark Knight said nothing, but kept his gaze locked with the man speaking.

"Well, then, I trust you've had ample time to say your goodbyes?" He nodded to a guard, and the same routine was carried out. The gun was taken up, and Bruce was given the shot, forcing him to slowly lower to the ground. Though, the whole time he kept his gaze on Karl, glaring despite his obvious disadvantage.

The doors were opened, and Tim didn't struggle as he was jerked out into the hall, but to his surprise, Dick was forced up also. His legs about gave out, and the guard with him had to about drag him along. "Why are you taking _him_?!" Tim demanded, pulling away. "What are you _doing_?"

"He's sick." Karl said. "Stop struggling, we're not going to hurt him. We're going to get him some help."

"Help?" Tim gave a look of surprise at the words. "…what kind of help?"

"The kind any person gets when they're sick." Karl answered casually, looking at Tim carefully. He appeared almost sorry. "Don't worry about him any, he'll be fine."

Dick was trying to stand and walk without the help, but Tim could see that wasn't going to happen. He kept faltering in his walk, until one of the guards just took his arm and draped it over his shoulder, dragging the young man with him. The group made their way down the hall.

"But Bruce -." Tim turned as he was pulled away and saw his mentor staring at him as if nothing were the matter. "…bye!" What a stupid thing to say, the boy almost laughed then and there at his own words. A casual bye? Oh well, nothing to do about that now. At least he hadn't made a big deal over it and _cried_. No, Tim swore that there would be no tears, and he meant to keep it.

They went to an elevator and were taken up to the second floor. It was there that Dick was taken in a different direction, and Tim started to realize that this would be the last time he'd see his brother. "Can't I say goodbye to him?!"

Karl stopped walking and nodded to the guards holding Tim. "Fine, make it quick."

Tim was forced around. A fist grabbed a handful of his hair, to keep him from moving anymore then necessary. "Dick?"

Dick was smiling? He was smiling!

"Tell Bruce it's no -."

"Timmy-boy, you underestimate me." Dick asked, a silly look as he was being upheld by the man escorting him. He gave a jerk, and started to gag loudly, and then jerked his arm up, and hit the man supporting him in the face with his elbow. And things started moving rather quickly. Dick was _fast_. Within a few seconds, the two guards holding Tim were down on the ground, and then the gypsy was at Karl. He brought the palm of his hand into the man's head, knocking him to the ground, and then turned, grabbing the tranquilizer gun that they had used on Bruce. He shot Karl and gave a crooked smile and blew away the imaginary smoke. "Score."

"…" Tim felt like a fool, standing there, having done nothing.

Dick dropped to his knees, turning the unconscious guard over and pulling something off of the man's ear. "Get these off the guard's ears, Tim."

"What? Their ears?" Then it struck Tim, what Antonio had said to Bruce and him before he had been dragged away. _"In their ears, you'll see it – Hedda doesn't have anything against you. That's what I hear." _The teenager did as he was told without another moment of hesitation.

"Bruce thinks they're being controlled, mind control – let's hope so, it'll make it easier on us." Dick said, getting up and starting down the hall. He was looking all around. "Come on, we got a big job ahead of us. It's not just these idiots that we have to worry about, figures the Joker, Two-Face, and a bunch of others'll be here too. We gotta figure out where we are and call Babs."

Tim hurried after Dick, still a bit confused. "You aren't sick then?"

A smile as Dick started to run, seeing that Tim was following behind him. "Bruce didn't think you'd take him up on the poison, he knew you wouldn't. He told Karl he and I were talking about the poison that day he asked what we spoke in Romanian, though – you thought it was German or something. We got lucky though, lucky they took me out when they came and got you. Plan was for me to act sick enough so they'd take me out, didn't matter when, so long as I got out before they sold you off."

Tim felt the relief wash over him. "We got lucky."

"Let's hope we keep lucky, we'll need it to get out of here." Dick came to a stop and looked at Tim with his usual smile. "Just know I forced myself to throw up for you in front of Bruce. You owe me one like never before."

Tim smiled back.

"Let's go."

_To be continued …_

**Robin IV: **Haha! No pressure, just know it nearly kills you. The brink of death, lol. I'm glad there isn't too much shame involved with listening to Barbie, 'cause you know, it's Barbie and all, and I'm not 11. Do 11 year olds like Barbie? I dunno, we'll say they do. Thanks so much for the kind words though! And put on the pressure! I need it, otherwise I get lazy.

**lpgohanfanatic**: You're welcome, but thank you 100 times more for reviewing! I'm so full of myself I need to read reviews to continue, lol … that's not totally true. But let's just say that they sure help! Thanks again!

**Skyaze: **You and me both. I've been having so much trouble figuring out what _will_ happen next. Like, should I kill someone? Should I let them live? Should I go into a new problem where they're in a worse situation? My sister always makes fun of me because I have the bad habit of writing myself into a hole and not being able to get the characters out! LOL. Thanks so much!

**ChikaCherryCola: **Like a chicka'cherry cola – I know that song.

**Fae Child 19: **The dream was sort of off the top. I reread it and found it interesting too. Then it dawned on me that I should probably tie it in, so lets hope I can figure out how to do that! LOLIRL. I will, though! I'll make it make sense, somehow … I hope? Thanks for the review, thanks so much!

**Trecebo: **Yeah, their conversation was awkward. It was a sign that I was really trying to drag out this story as long as I could before I had to start to wrap things up, lol. I'm glad you liked it though, 'cause I might have to expand on it in a bad way! Ahh! LOL. We'll see, we'll see. Surprises, right? Thanks so much for the review (like always). I owe you.

**Elisa Nataly: **I did have a happy Valentines, I think? Oh well, it's over now, so that's that. I hope you had an awesome one too! Score! I'm glad you liked the interaction between Bruce and Dick, I love writing it, but I don't always get a chance too. And sometimes I feel so weird when writing it, like I'm imposing on a private conversation. It's fun though! Thanks for reading!!

**E. Nagrom**: I get tears in my eyes each time I read your review (good tears, good tears!) It makes me laugh. The dream was totally trippy, lolirl. I die each time I think about it – like, what was I thinking? Well, now I have a random dream that doesn't really make sense, but I gotta' make it work. Gah! Thanks for making me laugh though, haha. Thanks so much for the reviews, all of them!

**Trunksblue: **The Superman cup is dedicated to you. See, Superman did save them … sort of. It got Dick to think about nasty white milk, and helped him throw up. Throwing up made possible by Superman. They should write him a thank you letter. LOL. Us college students and our procrastination and horrible sleeping patterns. I have a paper due tomorrow that I haven't even started … umm … yeah. Well, I hope you're up to your neck too, that way I won't suffer alone! I'm so nice, XD.


	15. Tripe Trouble, Joker and TwoFace

**Authors Note: **I apologize that this fiction is so poorly written. I'm sort of lost with it. I know what I want to happen, and I know how to get there … it's just boring to write at times. I want to finish it though, so I'll trudge onward. I do apologize though, for this poor chapter. It's badly written and badly thought through.

_**Ghosts in the Closet**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Fifteen:**

Tim wiped a hand across his forehead, watching Dick a few feet down the hall. He waited for a few seconds till his older brother gave him the signal, and then – he took off. The two ran down the hall in silence, not even the sound of their footsteps could be heard, pattering against the stone.

They came to a new hall and both pressed against the wall. Nobody was around – nobody was _anywhere_. No doubt Sigmund Hedda knew that they had escaped, and there was little doubt that he was unprepared. The man that had caught the Batman was going to be hard to bring down.

That was for sure.

"Contact Barbara?" Tim whispered.

"What's the point? Don't know where we are." Dick answered, glancing at Tim and then back down the hall. "Come on."

The two started their run again, doing their best to find an exit, find someone – right now anything would be good.

"Where the shit is everybody?" Dick said a few moments later as they came to a dead end. Both exchanged glances, neither unsure what to do right now. "Bruce said … he said to find a way out and get help. Fuck that."

"We're going to save him first, right."

Dick nodded, frowning a bit. "Well, that was my original plan – but right now I'm sort of … lost."

"Lost." Tim said aloud, glancing across the empty hall. "They probably have camera's here."

"Probably."

"So they can see what we're doing and hear what we're saying."

"Figured as much." Dick gave a rough laugh and smiled at Tim out of the blue. "Lets go, we'll figure something out. They can't just leave us here to roam the halls forever. Sooner or later, something will have to happen."

Tim didn't much care for the plan, but ok. Dick would make sure things went ok, after all – it was Dick.

* * *

"Escaped?" The Joker didn't look amused. For a few second she stood there, looking like he was considering killing Sigmund, but then clicked his fingers together and started to laugh. "Siggy, Siggy, you're in over your head, aren't you?"

Two-Face ignored what the clown was saying and leaned against the wall, looking far from worried about the situation. If he was mad, it didn't show. "Why are you telling us? You want to die?"

Sigmund had no desire for any of that. If he was going to die he knew better than to let it be at the hands of mad men. Clearing his throat and running a hand across his chest, he shook his head. "I was hoping to have your … assistance."

"You tell us to come here and now you want us to work for you? Haha! Sigmund my friend, you _are_ insane." Joker waggled his finger in the air, his smile as wide as it could be. "I'm thinking maybe rope. Or wait – unoriginal. Harv already pulled that one! Haha!"

"The two boys – Nightwing and Robin, as you know them – they're currently running about, lost and trapped. If you were to … if you were to greet them. My guard can show you where to go."

Harvey Dent flipped his coin, catching it and casting his eyesight to see what it said. The Joker was looking too, giggling a bit as he did so. "You have guards."

"This is an offer." Sigmund explained. "My guards can … well." He didn't appear as nervous as he should be. "The boys figured out my weakness."

"Shouldn't have a weakness, Siggy. I don't!" Joker put a hand on Two-Face's shoulder and gave an evil grin. "I saw what the coin said, Harv. I saw it, I saw it!"

"Shut up, clown."

"So are we going?"

Harvey glared.

* * *

"Boss?" A guard watched as Two-Face and Joker went on past, down a hall, as if leaving. He looked at his employer, Sigmund, and wondered what was going on. After all, from the looks of things – everything was going down the drain. Which was good. He wanted things to flop, sick of being blackmailed with his wife and mother, sick of working for this mad man.

"Is Karl awake yet?"

"No."

"Then I'll make the calls." Sigmund smiled at the guard and pointed after the two insane criminals headed down the hall. "Get a group of men; send them to kill those two. Tell them to wait till they have caught the boys, and then send them in."

"D-dead? But what about the money?"

Sigmund gave another smile and shrugged. "Karl was an idiot; I'm taking care of things from now on. I have a feeling that Two-Face or the Joker doesn't have any intention of giving me the money once they have what they want." He smiled as he watched the guard move away and clasped his hands together. This was good. He'd be known all across Gotham City after this. He'd bring down the Batman, Nightwing, Robin, Two-Face, and the Joker. This was good.

* * *

"Damn! Damn!" Dick gave the wall a kick and shook his head. "They're screwing with us. Somehow they managed to trap us in here. We're just as good as we were in the cell." He glanced up to the ceiling and cursed again. "I know we've been here before."

"But how? Why can't we just go back the way we came?"

Dick was pressing against a wall, as if expecting to find a door. He shrugged his shoulders. "You tell me where we came in and we'll do just that. _Fuck_. Bruce is going to be so pissed when he finds out that we've …"

Tim looked away, trying to retrace his steps in his mind. They had run around so much – but still. That shouldn't keep them from finding the way they had come in, or at least an exit. This was a trap, and he had a feeling Dick knew that as well as he did. "You think Bruce is ok?"

"He's Batman, he'll be fine." Dick didn't sound so sure.

"Oh boooys!"

The two froze at the voice that echoed across the hall, bouncing off the walls, vibrating it seemed. They didn't look at each other, but both knew whose voice that was. They both knew what it meant.

"Nighty-Night! Where'd you go off to? Your boss is going to be ticked when he finds out that you've been running in circles rather than saving the day! I thought he trained you better!!"

Tim took a step back and finally looked to his older brother. "We should hide?"

Dick shook his head. "No. We're going to finish this. It's the opening we've been waiting for. Let's go."

"Buh-but." Tim didn't finish, he slowly nodded against his better judgment.

* * *

When Karl awoke he was disoriented, lost and confused. What was going on, and where was he? Slowly sitting up he was surprised to find Bruce Wayne collapsed against the floor a few feet away.

Oh god no! What was he doing _here_? What was he doing in the cell with the man he was trying to kill? With the man whose children he had attempted to sell off to insane criminals? Backing away slowly, Karl glanced around, expecting to see a guard. There was none.

Not a single person to help him out.

Grinding his teeth together he grasped the bars and glared into the empty space. "Damn you Sigmund, damn you to hell!"

The billionaire behind him stirred a bit, but nothing more. It was enough to scare the man locked in the cell though. He cast a careful eye on the figure and pressed against the bars, wondering how much of the tranquilizer the unmasked Dark Knight had received. Hopefully enough to keep him out till Karl could figure a way to escape.

Wishful thinking.

If Batman couldn't escape this place then how could he?

Planting himself on the floor, Karl put a hand to his face, thinking about the events, thinking about his life. What was he doing here? What had he been thinking? Revenge on the Batman?

Revenge on the Batman.

_Kill him_.

"I can't." Karl whispered. "I'm not brave enough, that's why I – that's why I hired Sigmund. He was supposed to take care of this whole thing."

_Shouldn't have trusted anyone but yourself._

"I realize that now. Damn."

_To be continued …_


End file.
